Blue Rain
by Shivver
Summary: Original AU. A normal human in a world in which a handful of individuals have suddenly developed superpowers, Donna lives her mundane life whilst always keeping one eye to the skies to catch a glimpse of the city's new heroes.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note/Dedication** : They say that writers write the kinds of things they want to read. That holds for me: I write _Doctor Who_ adventures and missing scenes, because that's the kind of stories I'm interested in. I hold to that pretty well. Among everything I've written, I've done one relationship fic, a missing scene, and the pair I chose to wrote about died about an hour later in the episode. Very romantic.

I might prefer reading adventures, but that doesn't mean I don't enjoy other genres, and my guilty pleasure is Doctor/Donna stories and all their permutations. Of all the D/D writers out there, Basmathgirl is the queen, in terms of both prolificity and quality. BMG has written hundreds of stories across the entire Tatennant fandom, mostly about Donna with the Tenth Doctor and with the Metacrisis Doctor, but also about various Tate characters (with whom I'm not really familiar) and Tennant characters (especially Peter Vincent and DI Alec Hardy). Most are ships, and they are canon adventure stories, alternate timelines, fix-its for "Journey's End", alternate universe tales involving characters based on the canon characters - anything you might imagine, and a lot of things you haven't. Most of all, they are good reading and lots of fun.

Because she's provided me so much entertainment and enjoyment, I wondered if I might do the same for her. If she enjoys writing Tatennant stories, she might enjoy reading one. Of course, I don't write ships, but I'm always told that I need to challenge myself as a writer and try out things I'm not comfortable with. So, I came up with an idea - my first Doctor/Donna relationship fic, involving a Doctor-like character and a Donna-like character in an alternate universe of my own creation - and started writing.

It didn't work.

Well, to be honest, yes, there's a Doctor/Donna ship in this story, but no one in their right mind would call this a ship fic. However, I tried, and I enjoyed every moment of writing this. It will have to do.

This story, _Blue Rain_ , is dedicated to Basmathgirl. Thank you for all of your wonderful stories, and I hope you continue to expand on and re-imagine these wonderful characters for many years to come!

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Life didn't get better than this: enjoying an early spring evening with good food, better lagers, and great friends. Of course, Donna mused, to wrangle this, they'd had to stuff six people around the last four-person table available in the outdoor seating at Marie's, but that just meant things were cozy and warm against the chill air. The banter and laughter as they watched the cars and pedestrians pass by outside the long planters topped with fragrant, trimmed bushes were worth the jostled elbows and inadvertent games of footsie.

"Tonya's always like that, isn't she?" Veena, the secretary that Donna shared an office with, wheezed as she continued her little tale. She was a dark-haired woman with a sharp, shrewish expression that didn't quite match her cheery, flowery dress. "I told her, I did. I told her she oughta dump him right in the bin, I said, but no, she doesn't listen, and see how it turned out? She finds him doing Terri from accounting right there on his desk." Whilst she cackled at her own story, the others around the table shifted in their seats, uncomfortable and a bit mortified.

"I'm sure Tonya's quite happy to have such a good, reliable friend in you." Donna's sarcastic drawl drew a snort from Tom.

"Well." Pursing her lips, Veena busied herself with straightening her plate and silverware. "She hasn't been returning my calls, but I'm sure she's just in a funk. I'm sure I'll see her on the weekend, and I'll let you know all the details on Monday." Whilst Donna rolled her eyes at that, Nerys didn't bother to hide her contempt. Donna's good friend and manager at Fischer Engineering, a firm specialising in building equipment for commercial and academic clients, she was cynically clever and hiding her contempt was not one of her strong points. Smoothing back an imaginary loose hair from her immaculate blonde bun, she crossed her arms and turned pointedly to gaze up and away.

"Oi! Look!" she exclaimed, pointing up at the sky. The group, as well a number of diners around them, turned to follow her finger. Above the city rooftops, a distinctly human figure soared across the sky, a dark silhouette against the wash of oranges of the English twilight.

"Is that Silver Falcon?" Paul gasped. He was on the Fischer legal team, and though Donna had no concept of how fine a solicitor he was, he otherwise certainly wasn't particularly observant, as his question just now demonstrated.

"No, you wally," Donna chided him, her brow furrowed with disbelief. "That's a woman. Kathica, I'd say, because Crimson Angel doesn't crook her knee up like that when she flies."

"Leave it to Donna to know exactly how each superhero holds herself in the air," Anna teased, then knocked her companionably in the arm with her elbow. One of the engineers in Nerys' group, she was more comfortable with the techies than with Donna and Veena but shared Donna's love of Thai food and the two knew all the best restaurants near the company building. Donna always felt a little intimidated walking with the tall curvy brunette, with her business suit and piercing intelligent eyes.

"What?" Donna couldn't believe it wasn't obvious. "Their pictures are all over the news every night. You never noticed that?'

"I have to say that I'm not looking at Kathica Myles to see how she holds her leg up," Tom mumbled as he took a pull from his beer, and Paul nodded in agreement. In comparison with Anna, Tom, another engineer, was small and weaselly, an appearance that was heightened by his wrinkled shirt and trousers, which always seemed a size too large.

"That's one who could cut her leotard a little lower at the hips and higher at the chest," Nerys sneered.

"That one could do anything she wants and no one would dare to contradict her," Veena pouted. "How can one person get so lucky? I mean, Fulham heiress and all, and then a tennis star, and then, of all the people who could have been affected by the Blue Rain, it's her."

"And she's hot in that costume," added Tom.

Anna nodded. "Yeah. She's gorgeous."

"It all makes up for her deficiencies," Donna replied, tapping her head. "They say her brain's emptier than the kegs at the Tap and Growler at Friday night close and all she cares about is seeing her mug on the news every night. That's what she's doing that for."

"Well, whatever her reason is, I feel safer with her in the sky," Anna replied.

"And Silver Falcon!" Donna exclaimed. "Look, there he goes, too! That's him, I'm sure of it!" Again, the table and its neighbors turned to watch the distinctly male silhouette fly above them. Donna grinned, her blue eyes sparkling, and swept her coppery hair back with her hand even though it hadn't been in her eyes obscuring the sight of the superhero. Well-settled in her late-thirties, maybe she was too old to worship them, but they just fascinated her, how these gifted people fought to protect the world every day. It did help, of course, that they were, like most celebrities, gorgeous and larger-than-life.

"Why?" Veena snorted after the figure had gone. "Why should they make you feel safer? It's not like either of them'd ever stoop so low to help you if someone grabbed your purse from the planter there." Anna turned to notice she'd left her purse within easy reach of anyone passing by on the pavement and snatched it back, dropping it under the table at her feet. "Them heroes, they're after the ones on their level, and maybe a bank robber or two."

"That's good enough for me," Anna stated, crossing her arms and glaring at Veena. "There's enough evil in the world. I'm glad some of them are fighting for good."

"I doubt Kathica had good or bad in mind at all during the Blue Rain. I'm sure she ran outside every time the meteors began to fall, hoping to pick up powers," Nerys laughed. "Or better yet, she had her private jet on standby so she could really be up there. Anything to keep her name in the news."

"Who didn't?" asked Paul. "Not that we had much chance here in the city, but I'll admit I went out a few times."

"And what did you get, Paul?" teased Donna.

"An increased capacity for beer." To prove it, he downed his half-full pint in one gulp, to the laughter of the table.

"Well," Donna continued after taking another drink, "from what I can tell, getting powers from that stuff was pure chance. You watch the interviews; they all say they just woke up one day able to do things. And then there was that cottage outside of Cromer, got hit by one of the things directly, but none of the eight people in it got anything."

"Of course Donna knows all about the primes," Nerys snorted, rolling her eyes.

"It's all over the rags," Donna shrugged. "Maybe if you knew how to read, you'd know all this, too." She flashed a cheery smile at Nerys' sneer. "But that's all people want to know. The primes are the celebrities now. No one cares about actors and singers anymore. Did you see? That blonde on that reality show, Irina Carter, she got pissed at a club last Friday and got into a fight with a fan, and they said it was because no one was paying attention to her anymore."

"All publicity is good publicity?" Tom asked.

"Right-o!" Donna grinned.

"And still, Donna knows all," teased Veena.

"She does?" came a voice approaching the table. A black man with bright eyes and a brighter smile, clad in an expensive, crisp business suit came up behind Donna, clapping her on the shoulders with both hands. "Must be about primes then. Kathica, I'd wager, unless she's finally figured out where Silver Falcon goes home at night."

"Lance!" Donna breathed. "Finally!"

"I got hung up at the office. Is there room for me?"

"Of course!" Donna scooted her chair against Anna. "Budge up, won't you?" The friends squeezed themselves together enough to allow Lance to pull up a chair. Sitting down and pulling it in, he leaned over to steal a kiss from Donna before turning back to the table, and she nestled against his shoulder for a moment.

"What kind of work keeps you this late?" asked Paul. "Always wondered what kind of overtime there is for human resources."

"Getting a budget report sent up before the big planning meeting tomorrow." He shot a sceptical look at Nerys before continuing. "You know, benefits expenses and all that."

"Oh, that's never good," Veena whinged, "when planning involves looking at the benefits. And you know, they always cut the staff benefits, never the engineers." She didn't notice the two engineers at the table rolling their eyes at her.

"Well, they've assured me that they're not cutting anyone's benefits this time," Lance nodded at the entire table. "They just need the numbers for reference."

"Right. I'm sure you believe that," Nerys cooed through cynically pursed lips. "Well, let me second that anyway. The meeting tomorrow is for considering increasing headcount, possibly as much as one new engineer per group and four new mechanics in the main pool. You know I've been asking for another person for our group for a year now."

"As long as that's all you all will be looking at," Veena grumped.

"Yes, that's all," she confirmed.

"She's telling the truth," Donna added, "because she knows that if they cut my pay or benefits, I'll just have to take my revenge. It's useful working for your best friend." As Nerys glared at her, Donna leaned over and kissed Lance on the cheek. "Sorry, love, but I've got to go."

"But I just got here! Stay a bit," he pleaded, hugging her to his side with one arm.

"Can't. Told you, I promised my mum I'd help her tonight with the arrangements for her party and I'm already late. And then work tomorrow, of course." Grabbing her purse, she pushed out her chair and stood up. "You coming, Nerys?"

The blonde downed the last of her drink and rose with Donna. "Yeah. Long day for me tomorrow, too." Bidding farewell to their friends, the two women threaded their way out of the pub and headed for the Tube station.


	2. Chapter 2

It was fully dark by the time Donna stepped off the bus at the stop closest to home. She still had a number of blocks to walk before she even got into the area in which she lived, but it gave her the chance to glance in the shop displays, even if they were mostly dark and hard to see. She'd wanted to stay at the pub, and honestly, spend the night with Lance, which, on top of its obvious perks, meant she'd be that much closer to work the next morning and could sleep in a bit, but living at home had its responsibilities. Since she'd managed to hold a job for two years and started seeing Lance, the influential director of human resources at Fischer, her mother Sylvia had finally stopped nagging her about bettering herself and turned her attentions to trying to groom Donna to "serve the community and the family". So far, Donna had determined that this meant doing tasks and favours for Sylvia, but it was a small price to pay for living rent-free at home and getting to spend time with her grandfather, Wilf.

As she paused to admire a dress in a display that she'd been considering buying for the next company party, Donna suddenly realised that three men had come up behind her. Before she could turn to see exactly where they were, she felt something sharp prod the small of her back and she stiffened.

"You was thinking that your handbag is a bit heavy and you'd like someone to carry that for you, now wasn't you?" growled a low voice in her ear.

"Oi, I don't want trouble," she replied, grabbing her purse from her shoulder and shoving it into the hands of the one that came up on her left. "Take it. Just please leave me alone."

"Look at her, mate. She's gorgeous. I want a piece of her!" The man on the right grabbed her chin and forced her to face him. She flinched as heavy fumes of stale vodka washed over her.

"Please, let me go!" she pleaded, but the one behind her grabbed her arms and began to drag her down the pavement. That was enough; she would never go down without a fight. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she started kicking and writhing against the grip that pinned her.

Immediately, a wad of cloth was stuffed in her mouth and held there, and the three strong men had no trouble pulling her down the alleyway on the side of the shop. "Trying to spoil our fun, are you?" snarled one of the men, and he punched her hard in the stomach. She doubled over and stumbled backwards.

"Oh, that's what I want!" leered another one. As he made a grab for her, she launched herself sideways to slip out from under him, but her heel came down wrong and with a grunt of pain, she crashed to the ground as her ankle collapsed under her.

"Make it easy now, won't you?" crowed one of the men as he dropped down next to her and rolled her over to pin her arms. He was easily the largest of the three, with big hulking biceps that barely fit his shirt sleeves.

"Leave her alone!" thundered a voice from the street, and the three men turned toward it. Through the tears in her eyes, Donna could just make out a tall, bulky male silhouette against the lamplight spilling into the alley.

"Bugger off!" yelled one of the men. "Or we'll paste your face into the ground."

The figure strode into the alley to face the men directly. "I said, leave the lady alone."

"Cort?" called one of the men to the one pinning Donna down.

"Oh, yeah!" He leered at Donna. "Don't you go anywhere, love," he crooned at her, then punched her across the face before jumping to his feet to face the stranger.

The strike hadn't been enough to knock Donna out, but she was dazed and hurting. Cort pounded his fist into his palm as he approached the interloper, then lashed out with a fast, heavy strike. However, his target was faster. He ducked under the punch and, ignoring the huge gorilla, sprang to one of his smaller friends and knocked him into the wall. At his pained yelp, his friends jumped to his aid. Cort bulled the stranger with both fists while the other struck with his knife, and Donna blinked hard: it looked to her like the man scurried up the vertical brick wall and vaulted over the two men, knocking them each on the back of the head with a fist or a foot as he flipped past them.

His efforts only served to enrage them, and all three doubled back on their attacker. To Donna, it seemed like her defender had nowhere to go, when a blur streaked down from the sky and caught Cort hard on the side of the head, and the big guy collapsed where he stood. With a quick flurry of punches, the new arrival disposed of the other two in a moment. Donna blinked her eyes furiously: she couldn't be sure through all of the haze, but this man's costume looked like Silver Falcon's. If the grey-silver tight bodysuit lined with red stripes and ribbing wasn't a good enough indication, the mask covering his face with its hawk-like black eyepieces and stylized wings swept back over the ears was a dead giveaway.

"That'll teach them to prey upon women like that." It was! It was Silver Falcon! Donna had heard that deep, booming voice hundreds of times, in interviews on the telly and videos on YouTube. "Are you all right, miss?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, Silver Falcon," she heard herself answer through all of the pain. "Thank you!" She grinned at him like a starstruck schoolgirl.

The hero glanced at the stranger. "Good work there, mate," he announced, though the disdain in his voice made it clear he thought it was anything but. He then wagged a finger at Donna. "Now, be more careful in the future. Chiswick is a safe place in general, but you never know what might be lurking."

"I will, thank you!" she called as he raised a fist to the sky and sailed off into the night. She continued to stare in that direction, an astonished smile on her face, contemplating how quickly the worst moment of her life could transform into the best.

A movement beside her brought her back to the alley. The stranger was kneeling beside her. "I know you're not fine, no matter what you might tell him." Staring at him, she realised that what she had thought was a strong build was actually a jumper tied around his face and head to hide all but his eyes. She guessed that beneath it all, he was quite rangy. "It's okay," he assured her. "I'm not going to hurt you. May I check you over?"

"How?" She pushed herself up to sit against the wall behind her.

"I just need to touch." He held up his hands to show that he wasn't holding a weapon.

"No funny business, sunshine!" she spat though her dizziness made her nearly fall over.

"None. If I do anything you don't like, just tell me no." He pronounced each word very carefully. "Or scream if you prefer. Okay?"

Eyeing him warily, she nodded.

Very gently, he placed a hand on her ankle and held it there for a few seconds. Then, he cupped her cheek where Cort had hit her, though his eyes failed to meet hers; he seemed to be thinking, his eyes unfocused. Finally, he indicated her stomach, where she'd originally been punched, asking permission with a pointed glance. When she nodded, he placed his hand there, over her blouse, and removed it after a few seconds.

"You're very lucky. Nothing serious." He scooted back a metre to give her some space and ease her suspicions. "Your ankle is twisted and not sprained, and you've no internal damage in your gut. Your jaw is fine, too, but it will likely bruise."

Donna gaped at him. "You can tell all that from just touching?"

"Yes." At her sceptical smirk, he shrugged. "Well, I'm not perfect and could be wrong. Best you go to an A&E if you can, but I think they'll tell you the same." He hopped up and stooped to snag her purse, which had fallen, forgotten as events had whirled out of control. "Let's get you home, shall we?" He looped the purse strap over his head so that he'd be free to support her, then held out a hand to her. "Can you walk, or shall I carry you?"

"I can take care of myself," she lied, unwilling to accept more assistance from him.

"I'm not going to leave you here in this alley, especially when we don't know when they will wake up." He indicated her assailants with a jerk of his head. "Come on. You can lean on me." He beckoned with his outstretched hand.

"All right." As she shifted to try to stand, Donna found that she needed his help to do almost anything, and he finally got her to her feet, leaning heavily against him. He moved to support the side with the twisted ankle, and she slowly stumped along.

"I'm sorry, I don't have a car here. We'll have to do this the hard way. Which way?" he asked as they stepped back on the pavement.

She pointed with an arm. With her limping along, it took them over thirty minutes to do what was normally a ten-minute walk for her, and neither spoke except for his periodic inquiries into how she was doing, his light baritone inexplicably soothing her and quelling her nervousness. By the time they arrived outside her door, she felt comfortable relying on his support.

"All safe!" he pronounced, carefully letting her stand on her own, then unhooking her purse and holding it out to her. What wasn't covered of his face was illuminated by the lamp above the door, his clear brown eyes shining with pride at getting her home.

Donna accepted the purse and strung it over her shoulder. "I don't know how I would have done it without your help. Thank you…" She frowned. "You are?"

He stepped back and shrugged. "I don't have a name."

"Of course you have a name," she chided him with a none too gentle laugh. "Why don't you take off that silly jumper so that I can see you properly?"

"No!" he exclaimed, jerking back though she hadn't made any move to remove it for him. "I'm not anyone. I was just passing by."

Donna knew there was no subtle or polite way to ask what she wanted to know, so she blurted it out before she thought better of it. "Are you a prime?"

The man's eyes clouded for a moment before he answered. "That's such an odd word, isn't it? Implies we're not human, like we're a, er, a number, or a cut of meat or something. Or that we're morally superior somehow." He glanced away to try to conceal his embarrassment. "I… I've a little. You saw. I can't do much, not like Silver Falcon. But you were just…" He gulped, reluctant to mention what had been happening to her when he'd stepped in. "I couldn't just stand by."

"You're a proper hero, then." She laughed at his sputtered denial. "You are! Really you are. Jumping in to defend me when you could've been killed yourself. And not for glory or recognition or reward, but just to help me. That's what a hero is." He stared at her with utterly stunned disbelief. "Though, if you're going to keep doing this, you should get a better mask," she teased. Hobbling forward, she grasped his arm. "Thank you for saving me, and helping me home."

"It was my honour." His eyes crinkled with a pleased smile, and suddenly, he was gone, dashing over the low wall and up the street with surprising speed. Grinning, Donna pulled out her key and let herself in.


	3. Chapter 3

"And when exactly were you going to call, young lady? There's hardly any of the evening left!" Sylvia's holler crashed down the stairs before Donna managed to get the door closed. "Here I've been waiting to get going on these invitations. Your grandfather skipped the allotment tonight to help because apparently you've more important things to do. At the pub, I presume."

With a deep sigh, Donna leant back against the door, her arms across her tender abdomen and her injured ankle held lightly up. "Mum! Can you come down? I need -"

"Oh, you need?" Sylvia's complaint cut her off. "It's all you need, you need. That posh boyfriend of yours is making you forget you're a working woman." The tall, imperious blond woman turned the corner and stomped down the stairs. "Maybe if you'd ever get out of the secreta - Donna! What happened?" Horrified at Donna's appearance, Sylvia rushed down the stairs to help her obviously ailing daughter.

"I got attacked, Mum," Donna explained. "Just outside Tomkin's. But I'm okay. It just hurts a little."

"Come over here to the sofa. Let me help you." Letting Donna lean on her, she guided her into the lounge. "Dad!" she called upstairs as Donna hobbled with her. "Dad! Get down here! Donna's hurt!"

"I'm okay, Mum, really," Donna insisted, though she was relieved to finally sit down and get off her feet.

"What's wrong with Donna?" cried the small old man, his kind, worried eyes peering out of a face of silver scruff as he scampered down the stairs as fast as he could.

"I'm fine, Gramps," Donna hastened to assure him. Her mum could stand to be shocked once in a while, but Donna hated worrying Wilf. "Just a little worse for wear."

As Sylvia propped Donna's leg on the coffee table and eased off her shoe, Donna winced at the stress on the ankle. "Oh, we'll need ice for this."

"Two packs, please, Mum? One for my cheek, too." Appalled, Sylvia stared for a moment before she rushed off to the kitchen.

Wilf perched on the armchair next to Donna and looked her over, his fingers twitching in apprehension. "Now, you didn't wrench your ankle in them heels and fall, now did you?"

"No, Gramps, I got mugged, right here in town."

"Oh, sweetheart!" He reached over and grasped her hand. "Looks like you got off light, though."

"I did. I've got the Mott luck, you know," she grinned.

"Here's two packs, and I put the kettle on," Sylvia announced. She handed Donna a pack for her cheek, then set to binding the other pack to her ankle with a towel. "So what happened?"

"I told you. Three blokes set on me outside Tomkin's as I was walking home from the bus. They dragged me into the alley on the side - you know which one - and they were holding me down when this other bloke called them off. I think they would have killed him, but," and her eyes lit up, "Silver Falcon swooped down out of the sky and took care of them in a flash."

"Oh, Donna." Sylvia fixed her with a sceptical stare. "Don't make things up."

"No, really, it was Silver Falcon. Silver suit, wings on the head, the whole thing." She placed her hands on either side of her head to imitate the wings and wiggled her fingers.

"Did he do that thing where he throws 'em up in the air and flies into 'em?" Wilf asked, quivering a bit with enthusiasm.

"Oh, Dad, don't encourage her!" scolded Sylvia, and Wilf shrugged at her apologetically.

"No, he didn't," Donna said with a smile. "They were just people, you know. He only does that when he's fighting another prime. But he was magnificent, Mum! Flew right in and saved the day. Well, the night, anyway."

"Well, he turned an awful thing into a dream come true for you," Sylvia replied. "You stay right there whilst I get the tea." She strode back into the kitchen.

"I never thought I'd ever see him up close, Gramps!" Donna hugged herself. "He stopped to help little old me."

"And you're doing fine, you are?" he inquired.

"I am, really." She tapped her jaw, lightly enough not to cause pain. "I'll have a shiner for sure right here, and I'll be limping for a while, but my stomach is fine, really."

Wilf was appalled. "What happened to your stomach?"

"One of the blokes punched me."

"Punched you in the stomach?" Sylvia cried as she returned with the tray of tea things. "You need to go to the A&E and have that looked at, right now."

"Mum," Donna groaned. "I'm fine. I'm not hurt."

Sylvia shook her head as she passed cups of tea to her father and daughter. "You can't be sure of that."

"Yes, I can, because…" Donna paused to consider what exactly she was going to say. It sounded daft that someone could diagnose her physical condition just by touching her skin, and she wasn't sure she could make her mother understand. Sylvia was already wary of the primes and wouldn't trust the man's diagnosis or intentions.

"Because what?" Sylvia asked with a sarcastic flip of her head.

"The other man, the first one. He was a doctor. After Silver Falcon flew off, he checked me over and said there wasn't any major damage." She hoped she sounded credible.

Sylvia sat next to Donna and sipped her own tea, frowning over the rim of the cup. "How could he tell? He'd need to do tests to see if you ruptured a spleen or something, wouldn't he, Dad?"

Surprised at the sudden address, Wilf murmured, "Oh, no, no, I dunno," as he waved her off, but she barely noticed.

"And then what did this miracle doctor do?" Sylvia continued.

"Well, he told me to go to the A&E if I felt I needed to, though he thought they wouldn't find anything but a bruise on my cheek and a twisted ankle. Then he brought me home," Donna added, to paint as positive a picture as she could of him to her mother.

"Oh, he gave you a lift, did he?" Sylvia seemed much more impressed by him than by Silver Falcon.

Donna shook her head. "No, he didn't have a car. He helped me all the way here."

"I said I thought I heard voices, didn't I, Dad?" Sylvia nodded triumphantly at Wilf. "But, you didn't invite him in, after he brought you all this way? Donna!" she scolded.

Donna scrambled for an excuse. "I did! He said he had to go, late for meeting his mates at the pub."

"Well, then, what's his name?" Sylvia's frustration with this story was very apparent. "I want to send him a card to thank him for helping you home."

Donna resisted the urge to roll her eyes at having to cut more of this story out of whole cloth. "He wouldn't say. Didn't want to be recognised, he said."

Finally giving up, Sylvia clasped her hands in her lap. "Well, at least it's nice to hear there are some decent people out there."

"Mum!" Donna berated her. "Silver Falcon's a decent person, too, you know!"

Sylvia drew herself up. "Is that so, young lady? If he's so upstanding, why didn't _he_ bring you home? It would have taken him less than a minute to fly you from Tomkin's to here. Did he even stop to make sure you were all right?"

"He did, actually." Donna was quick to defend her hero. "He only left after I told him I was fine. Not his fault, Mum."

"Hmpf," Sylvia replied. "Well, I suppose I should make up the couch. No need for you to climb the stairs with that ankle. And you should call in."

"Oh, no! I can move well enough and I'll go bonkers cooped up in this house."

"Oh? And just how will get you there?" Sylvia stared at her disdainfully. "I can't drive you into the city, and you're certainly not going to take the Tube like that."

"I'll call Lance. He'll pick me up, I'm sure." Grabbing her purse, Donna dug around in it for her mobile.

"Don't wear out your welcome with him," Sylvia advised with her usual 'Listen to your mother, she has much more experience than you' attitude. "Too many favours and he'll disappear, you know."

"He won't," Donna replied with complete assurance. "Lance is devoted to me."

Sylvia pursed her lips and snorted. "That's what you said about Gary Leeds and that boy with the hair before him, and look how long they lasted."

"Mum!"

"All right, all right. I'll go get you some pillows and blankets." Standing up, she crossed the room and trotted up the stairs mumbling, "Just one encounter with a star and look at her…"

"Never you mind, sweetheart," Wilf crooned, leaning over to squeeze Donna's good leg. "Your mother's happy you're safe. And really, she's glad you have Lance to look after you."

"I know, Gramps. It'd just be nice if she wouldn't pick everything I do to death."

"That's just your mother," Wilf chuckled quietly, glancing up the stairs to make sure his daughter wasn't listening. "I remember when she was a little girl, she found my stash of cigars. I came back to find she'd taken apart each one of them and picked out all the bits she thought was bad and threw it all in the garden. Barely had a tablespoon of tobacco left of them. Put me off the things ever since, too."

Donna laughed. "There's no changing her, is there?"

"Not that I've ever seen. So go on." He nudged her on the shoulder. "Dream about your Silver Falcon and hang on to your Lance. Never mind her."

"Thanks, Gramps."

Wilf leaned in close. "You know, if you two get married, Lance will get it from her ten times worse."

"Ah!" Donna feigned horror and flopped back on the couch, but she couldn't stop the giggles from bubbling out. "Oh, oh, my poor Lance!" she cried as Wilf joined her with his low, slow laugh.

"What's so funny?" asked Sylvia as she came down the stairs laden with sheets and blankets.

"Nothing, Mum."


	4. Chapter 4

Donna's statement at the pub the previous night was proven the moment she hobbled into work on Lance's arm. Amid the gasps at the bruise on her jaw and the support bandage on her ankle, she described the attack and her saviour Silver Falcon appearing out of nowhere, and she immediately became the celebrity of the day. When she finally was able to settle at her desk, she found that the story had spread across the entire company, and every few minutes, another person appeared at her desk to beg for a telling directly from her; even Paul, who rarely ventured out of the legal offices down into the engineering section, stopped by, ostensibly to make sure she was all right, but really to get all the juicy details. The interruptions weren't particularly conducive to work, but when Nerys and, a bit later, the CEO of the company arrived to ask her about her adventure, Donna decided that she could enjoy this for a day. Each time, she flipped her ginger hair back over her shoulder and launched into the tale, and each time, it got taller. By lunch, she'd been waylaid by six men, who'd then ganged up on Silver Falcon and been beaten down one-by-one in a theatrical fight that lasted nearly ten minutes.

At precisely noon, Lance appeared to help her into the engineering break room and fetch her lunch for her. Tom, Anna, and Veena joined them at the table, but before long, they were surrounded by engineers and mechanics from around the company, all eager to hear her tell her tale yet again. Donna was in her element, the center of attention and the authority on all things prime-related.

"Oh, you must have been terrified!" Veena squealed. "I can't imagine what I would have done if it had been me!"

"Oh, I was! But Silver Falcon took care of them, chop chop!" Donna punched the air, forcing Lance to duck her swinging elbow. "See, Vee? Doesn't that make you feel safer? He _is_ watching out for us. They weren't supervillains or bank robbers, and he saved just one person, just little old me."

"Well," Tom waggled his eyebrows, "Silver Falcon is known for saving damsels in distress. That's his MO, when he's not fighting other primes."

"I'm good with that, being a damsel in distress." Sighing theatrically, Donna swiped the back of her hand across her brow. "Save me, Silver Falcon!" she cried, to the laughter of the entire room.

"I think," Anna stated, cutting across the noise, "that the real hero is the other bloke, the one that got them off of you."

Tom nodded. "I'll say. Taking on three of them like that. I don't think I would've even tried without some kind of power."

"I'd say Silver Falcon saved his life as well as yours, sweetheart." Lance squeezed her hand.

Donna tried to remember back to the moment before the hero in silver had appeared, but it was too hazy for details. The man hadn't done a bad job, and certainly hadn't allowed any of the three thugs to land a hit on him. Her last impression, though, was that he wasn't likely to have lasted much longer. "I reckon he did. Sweet man, he was. We need more heroes like that, on our level, don't you think?"

"Well," Veena laughed, "hardly on our level. Didn't you say he was a prime, too?"

"He was?" Lanced jerked back in surprise. "You didn't say."

"Oh!" Donna waved dismissively. "He said he was, just a little. He didn't seem happy about it."

"Really?" Lance studied her face, looking a little concerned. "What did he call himself?"

Donna shrugged. "He said he didn't have a name. Sounded like he had powers but had never used them in public before."

"What did he do? What were his powers?" Jon, one of the engineers standing around the table, asked in a quiet voice, and Tom seconded the question.

"It's hard to say." Raising a hand to touch her bruised cheek, she tapped at it. "He touched me here and said my jaw was fine, and then did the same for my stomach and my ankle. He could tell my ankle wasn't sprained."

"He diagnosed your injuries?" asked Brian, another engineer. "Like a triage nurse?"

"That's what I mean!" Donna squealed. "Isn't that strange?"

"That's an oddly specific power," Tom remarked, his eyebrows knitted as he pondered it. "Limited in use, but applied correctly, it could revolutionize healthcare."

"I don't know," murmured Veena. "Someone touches my leg and tells me I have cancer? I couldn't trust that. I mean, how can they tell that?"

"All right, maybe not," Tom conceded. "But how about as a first opinion? No long queues waiting for big machine tests to tell you they have no idea what's wrong. Just go into his office and he tells you right off what you might have and how they'll verify it."

"Yeah," agreed Brian. "That's the power of it right there. He's the one you should be telling everyone about. What a power!" He turned to Jon next to him, who nodded in agreement.

"It's amazing," mused Anna, "how many people got small, quiet powers like that but don't use them. I mean, people like Kathica are all over the news, doing all these great things, but how many of these other primes aren't doing anything with them? There's so much good these people could do."

"Good point," Tom replied. "I bet a lot of them just don't want to get involved. Just like us regular people don't, even when we're perfectly capable."

"Well," Lance grinned at Donna, "I, for one, am grateful that the great primes are looking out for my Donna." He leaned forward and planted a kiss on her cheek. "But I've got to get back to work, sweetheart. Contractors are coming in to assess that basin in the toilet upstairs and they have questions about the safety protocols."

"What basin upstairs?" asked Veena, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of new company gossip.

"You didn't hear?" Donna needled her with affected surprise. It wasn't often that she heard about something before Veena did and she loved to rub her nose in it when it happened. "They found one of the basins in the men's toilet by HR smashed to bits, like someone took a sledgehammer to it -"

"And took a sledgehammer to the bits, too," added Lance.

Donna nodded at him. "Yeah. But just the one. All the others are fine."

Taking a drink from his pop, Tom frowned at Donna over the rim of the can. "Why would anyone do that? Any idea who it might have been?"

"None at all," Lance replied. "We can't even figure out how it happened, how anyone had the time to do such a thorough job without being seen, and without making a sound." He shrugged. "So we have to replace it. At least the plumbing wasn't damaged." He patted Donna's hand. "Want help back to your desk?"

"Nah. If I can't make it on my own, I'm sure one of these big strong blokes will oblige." She eyed the group around her with a flirtatious grin.

"You all take care of my princess," Lance ordered, wagging a finger at the engineers, then stood up, patted Donna on the back, and strode out.

"Come on, one of you sit down here close by me," she called. "Jon?" She patted her invitation on the seat.

"Oh, no, no, not me, thank you," he murmured, stepping back and running a nervous hand through his short brown hair. Donna eyed him with a mischievous smirk. That one was so shy that she couldn't resist flirting with him just to see that flush of colour on his cheeks.

"I'll take that invite if he won't," stated Brian as he slipped into the seat and nudged Donna with a shoulder, which she returned. In direct contrast to Jon, Brian, a dark-haired bloke with an angular face, known for his penchant for deeply-coloured silk shirts, was outgoing and easy to pal around with. "So you don't have any idea who this new prime is?"

"Not a clue. He wouldn't let me get a good look at him, either. All I know is that he's tall." She surveyed the engineers standing around them. "Maybe about Jon's or Eric's height."

Brian shook his head. "Honestly, he's what we need, good useful powers put to good use."

"Maybe you should sell your story to the papers," Anna suggested. "Let everyone know there are primes out there who need to be recognised. They might be able to find him, or flush him out."

"Oh, I don't know." Donna chewed on her lip. "He was desperate to keep himself secret. It wouldn't be right."

"Well, a story like that could bring forward other people who don't realise they can contribute as much as Kathica or someone like that can," Brian suggested. "Just picture, a headline like, 'Britain Needs Your Powers', telling all about how he saved your life."

"But he didn't!" protested Donna.

"Well, maybe he didn't, but he still helped. 'After the great primes have gone, who's left to clean up the mess?'" Brian intoned in a poor imitation of a news announcer's cadence. "'When Chiswick secretary Donna Noble was attacked in the street by three local men earlier this week, Silver Falcon dispatched the thugs in short order, but who helped the injured woman, lying alone and injured? Enter the new prime, er…" He beckoned to his audience with a hand. "Give me a name, a name!"

"The Healer?" suggested Tom, but Brian grimaced at the idea.

"The Doctor," stated Anna.

"Much better!" grinned Brian.

"That's terrible," muttered Jon.

Ignoring him, Brian continued, "'Enter the new prime, the Doctor. With his ability to assess injuries with a single touch, he diagnosed and stabilised Ms. Noble's condition and got her the medical help she required.'"

"That's not how it happened!" protested Donna. "I didn't get seriously hurt."

"Doesn't matter. That's not how the story needs to go. Do you really think the news tells the truth?" Brian held up a hand to stop her protest and continued his monologue. "'Do you know the Doctor? Contact us with information about this rising new prime. Remember, all powers, no matter how small, can be useful and potentially save lives.'"

Donna was appalled. "I could never do that to him. I don't think he wants any of that. He only stepped in because he saw me being attacked!"

"And what ever happened to personal privacy?" asked Jon, though not loud enough that anyone paid attention to him.

"Relax!" sighed Brian. "I'm not going to run off to the news, if that's what you were thinking. But it bears thinking about, what good a prime like that could do if he just came forward."

The friendly mood of the room broken, the crowd dispersed very soon after that, and Tom helped Donna to her desk. The afternoon settled down quite a bit, with fewer and fewer people appearing to distract Donna from her work as the hours wore on. As she often did when forced to sit still for long time, she began to fidget, and when the mailroom dropped a box on her desk addressed to one of the engineers, she climbed to her feet and, grabbing the package, limped off.

"Donna!" shrieked Veena. "You shouldn't be walking on that! Let me do it!" Jumping up from her desk, she stomped over and tried to take the box, but Donna snatched it away from her.

"I'm tired of just sitting here. Just one little slow trip, 'kay? I'll be fine!" She glared at Veena, exasperated.

"Well," Veena grumped. "It's not like I've ever been able to stop you when you have your mind set on something."

"No one has, ever," Donna agreed, grinning, then hobbled out to the lift.

The engineers' offices were on the same level as the secretaries' room, but the labs and workshops were on the ground floor and Donna knew that the box's recipient had been working down there all week. Tapping softly on the door of Lab 1, she verified that the warning light above the lintel wasn't on before turning the handle and slipping inside.

Though part of her duties were to type up and proofread the technical documents the engineers produced, Donna understood very little of it, and when asked about what the company did, she simply stated that they designed machinery for the research and military sector. Thus, each time she did get to peek in the labs, she allowed herself to be bowled over by all the technology. It wasn't at all like the films liked to make her think, with glass displays, holographic projections, and robotic assistants. Instead, the lab felt earthy, with great stainless-steel constructions, heavy floor-standing tools, and multiple computer workstations. She was always floored by the brains that went into creating all of it.

One of those brains was perched on the top platform of a mobile ladder, elbow deep in the chamber on the top of the contraption he was working on, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. Obviously struggling with something that Donna couldn't see, he smeared his fist across his nose, knocking his safety goggles askew. With a frustrated groan, he tossed the tool in his hand onto the nearby tray and straightened to pull the goggles off. Donna opened her mouth to greet him, but he spoke first.

"Hello, Donna," Jon called without turning around. He ran a hand through his spiky mess of brown hair, then hopped lightly to the ground. With a nervous smile, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

"A package came for you. Thought I'd bring it down." She held out the box.

"Oh! You shouldn't have!" His raspy tenor squeaked his shock. Dashing over to her, he motioned to a chair near the door. "You should have just called me. You need to keep off that foot." Before she could protest, he divested her of the box, dumping it on a workbench nearby, then came up short, glancing meaningfully at the chair, obviously unwilling to touch her or ask her to sit. His mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to express his concern.

 _Oh, he is just adorable!_ Donna giggled to herself. She'd always thought that with his wide clear eyes and lopsided grin he'd be rather cute if he wasn't perpetually cowering with a deer-in-the-headlights look. _He needs to get out more._ To relieve him of his agitation, she smiled sweetly and sat down, as he was silently begging her to. "Thank you, Jon. But really, I couldn't stand sitting at my desk one more minute, and the package gave me an excuse to get up. Did you order it just to get me to come down here to visit you?" she asked with sly smile, which was rewarded with flushed cheeks and a ducked head.

"No, no, I, er… 'S'equipment I need," he fumbled.

"Oh? What's in the box?" She strained up to peer at it.

If she thought Jon already wanted the ground to swallow him up, now he plainly wanted to dissolve into the air and blow away. "Thm jrvz," he mumbled. Taking pity on him, Donna thought better of needling him any more and opened her mouth to change the subject when he inhaled deeply and said clearly, "They're thumb drives."

"What for?" she asked before she could stop herself. She really didn't need to know why thumb drives mortified him so.

He stared at her. "I… I thought everyone knew." His voice trembled.

Leaning back, she held up both hands to stop him, to calm him down. "Jon, no, I'm sorry. I don't, but don't tell me. I don't need to know."

Turning away, he continued as if she hadn't spoken at all. "It was the offsite meeting last week, for the board. We had to present our project progress. I was so nervous, I was buzzing and I almost threw up before I had to go. And then my slides didn't work." His gulp was audible. "Turns out, the thumb drive was broken."

"Oh, Jon!" Springing up from her seat as quickly as she could, she limped over and squeezed his arm. He cringed away but she held on tight. "That wasn't your fault. You can't take the blame for bad hardware."

He squirmed out of her grasp. "It _was_ my fault. I… I…" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. My presentation failed. Almost got the project cancelled. Don't know why I wasn't fired on the spot."

"They wouldn't fire you just for one bad presentation."

"That's not the only…" He swallowed again. "Been here two years now, finished only one project, messed up three others and had three more assigned away when we were almost done. It's only a matter of time, really, and then I'll never…" He closed his eyes for a moment, then gazed at her with a chill smile. "It really doesn't matter. I thought you knew. I thought everyone knew. It's all everyone's been talking about until your… what happened last night."

"Not at all. I hadn't heard a jot of it. All I've ever heard is how brilliant you are. That's what Nerys has always said, that we're lucky to have you on the team." That wasn't quite honest. Nerys had gushed about Jon's ability when she'd hired him, but those comments had stopped in the last many months. Donna had never been assigned to work on any of his projects and couldn't judge Jon's ability, but as her best friend, Nerys had confided in Donna that Jon was not at all what he'd been touted to be. Assignments which had preferentially been given to Jon, Nerys now gave to Brian, Tom, and Anna.

"If that's true, she's mental," he mumbled, fiddling with his own fingers obsessively.

Donna's heart bled for him, and she searched for a way to comfort him. "What can I do to help?" He shook his head, not daring to look up. "Well, let's make sure you do a bang-up job on this project of yours." She stared at the huge stainless steel device. "I could… I could hold your tools for you. Or make sure you have all the coffee in the world."

He grinned despite himself. "No, no, thank you, Donna." He stepped over and laid a tender hand on the device like it was his enormous, beloved dog. "No, this one won't save me, either. It's a specialised vacuum chamber for a professor up in Cambridge. This is the prototype, but it's just not working. I've gone over the designs a dozen times but the seals aren't holding, so I'm taking it apart, piece by piece."

Donna frowned. That wasn't what she thought engineers did. "Shouldn't the mechanics be doing that?"

"They're the ones who put it together. If the problem's in their work, they'll won't find it. Besides, if you want a job done right, do it yourself." Sighing, he stared up at the mountain of steel.

"You're taking the project on your shoulders," Donna chided him gently. "You should be working with a team."

He bowed his head. "I can't. I can't ruin everyone else's careers like that. Just my own."

Pursing her lips in sympathy, she patted him on the shoulder. He twitched, as if forcing himself to not shy away from her touch. "You know, Jon, Lance and I will be going out to the pub tonight with Tom, Anna, and Brian. You should join us."

"Thanks, Donna," he smiled, gazing away from her, "but I can't. I've too much work to do," he explained as he tapped on the metal surface.

Her smile was resigned but sympathetic. "Well, don't work too hard. Be sure to relax some this weekend."

"I will. Thank you, Donna." He pointed at her ankle. "Would you like help back upstairs?"

"No, I'm fine. Slow, but fine. I much prefer my freedom." Hobbling to the door, she waved and flashed him a fond smile, then disappeared through it, letting it swing closed behind her.

Jon leaned back against the machine to watch her leave. As soon as the door shut, he slapped his palm to his forehead and berated himself, "You're an idiot, Jonathan. A daft, bumbling idiot." He pulled his goggles out of his pockets and put them on, then climbed back up the ladder to the top platform and picked up a large spanner to dive back into his work. Exhaling heavily, he slumped down on the machine and gazed at the door as he rooted in his pocket again. Pulling out a matte silver thumb drive, he shook it, the pieces inside rattling like a baby's toy. "Why? Why? Why?" he murmured to himself, gripping it tightly in his fist, then dropped the broken device back in his pocket and returned to wrestling with the steel machine.


	5. Chapter 5

For all her insistence that she hated sitting still and that she didn't need any help moving around, by the time she returned to her desk, Donna was exhausted and she plopped down in her chair with relief. Veena laughed heartily at her as she got up to bring her a coffee. "Told you I should've done it!"

"Nah. I just need to catch my breath. I'm not going to let this ankle of mine get the better of me." She took the mug from her friend with a grateful smile. "Thanks! Oh, I'm gasping."

"'Course you are!" Veena nodded as Donna took a long drink. She turned to return to her desk when Donna stopped her by catching her hand.

"Vee?"

She turned back. "Yeah?"

Donna set the cup on the corner of her desk. "You were at the off-site. Why didn't you tell me about Jon's presentation?"

Veena glanced around then, pushing the cup aside, sat down where it had been. "Did he just tell you about that?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah." She looked around again, then lowered her voice. "Nerys warned the rest of us not to talk about it at all. I think she's planning to use it as a nail in Jon's coffin."

"That's hardly fair!" exclaimed Donna, and Veena exhorted her to keep her voice down. "Firing him for a tool failure? What's she thinking?" she whispered.

"Oh, it wasn't just the thumb drive," she said, leaning in close for her favorite activity, gossiping. "When he figured out that the thing was broken, he just fell apart. He kept muttering that it was all his fault. And then he tried to give the presentation blind, but he could have been speaking in Chinese, for all that we could understand him. It's one of our biggest contracts right now, but he made us look incompetent. He's on his last legs now."

"Oh, that poor man!" Donna crooned. "He's such a shy little sweetheart, too. I thought he was supposed to be a genius."

Veena pulled back, her eyes wide. "That's the thing," she drawled. "He is. You should see his CV. Graduated from MIT, Ph.D. from Cambridge - no one else here has anywhere near those credentials. He was United's top engineer and architect for years, and only came here because he wanted to move back to London. But he hasn't performed at all."

"I wonder what happened?" Donna frowned.

"I don't know. Maybe too much pressure?"

"Could be." Donna glanced at the door. "They put a lot of pressure on the engineers here. What about at home? Marital problems, or new dad maybe?"

"Him?" Veena had to stifle her cackle. "Nah, he's not married. I'm not even sure he swings that way."

Donna smirked at her. "Just because you haven't turned his head doesn't mean he's gay, Vee. If that were the case, all of London is gay."

Veena sneered at the insult then shot back, "Doesn't mean he isn't. You know him, right?"

Donna shook her head. "Can't say I do much at all. He's so quiet, and I actually haven't worked with him. He's never chosen me for any of his projects."

"Well." Veena crossed her arms, her attitude that of an expert on the subject of Jon. "As far as I've seen, he doesn't look at any of the girls at all, and he's out quick when the blokes get rowdy."

Donna rolled her eyes. "That's shy, Vee. Not necessarily gay."

Veena shrugged. "Don't matter. He doesn't have a partner, one way or the other. And whatever his problem is, he's got to get over it, because if he doesn't succeed this time, he's not going to be able to land another job after this."

Biting her lip, Donna glanced in the direction of Jon's office even though she knew he wasn't there. "He's got a lot of work ahead of him. He's doing it alone, you know."

"Yeah. He insisted, after the off-site." Veena leaned in again, lowering her voice. "It's good, though. He left a squad of engineers and mechanics free to work on that new project. Nerys owes him for that, at least."

"Yeah." Donna leaned back in her chair, thinking. Jon had been so open with her and so scared, she felt like trying to do something for him, to help him feel more comfortable at work. "You know, Vee, I should throw a party. The whole team, some Friday. You know, dinner and drinks. What do you think?"

Veena quirked an eyebrow. "What are you on about now?"

"Well, I just thought it might be good for Jon to get to know his team. It's been two years and he barely talks to any of us."

"Oh, I see." Veena smirked. "He's your new project, isn't he?"

Grinning mischievously, Donna cocked her head at her friend. "Well, he could use a little work, don't you think? Draw him out a bit?"

"Is that even possible?" Veena cackled. "What is he, thirty-five maybe? And he still jumps like a spooked cat if you so much as look at him?"

Donna rubbed her hands together. "I like a challenge."

"Getting him to relax?" Veena laughed again. "'Challenge' isn't the word. 'Miracle', more like. Well, you should at least wait until he finishes this project. Be a shame for him to make some friends and then get let go."

"Yeah, I'll wait." Donna agreed, though her twitching fingers betrayed her eagerness to enact her plan. "Don't got a choice, with this foot." Leaning forward, she grasped her friend's hand. "Thanks for filling me in, Vee."

"Any time." Veena grinned evilly. "I've been itching to talk about him all week."

"I bet you have," Donna laughed. "Well, you can keep me in your confidence at any time. You know you can tell me anything." With conspiratorial grins, they returned to their work.


	6. Chapter 6

If Donna had kept off her feet like everyone advised her to, her ankle probably would have healed rather quickly. However, her insistence on independence cost her recuperation, and it was nearly two weeks before she could walk normally again. Lance was her pillar, picking her up to drive her to and from work every day, even though it tripled his own commute. She did spend a couple of nights at his flat, both to make the trip easier and to spend time with him, but he convinced her to stay at home most evenings, insisting that family was far more important to her recovery than convenience.

At work, her fifteen minutes of fame evaporated faster than she imagined it would, replaced by the huge new project that swallowed almost the entire group, including Veena. The customer, a small tech lab called Keller Environmentals, had supplied preliminary designs for a sophisticated energy conversion system and apparently the technology was so interesting that everyone wanted to work on it. Since Donna couldn't move much, Veena drafted her to take notes in hours-long meetings where the engineers argued over minute details in the blueprints. After-hours changed as well, as Brian, Tom, and Anna opted out of the Friday night pub run to work late, leaving a much quieter table with just Nerys, Lance, and Paul to entertain her. And she noticed that through all the frenzied project work, just as Veena had predicted, Jon was conspicuous by his absence.

Donna was pleased to hear that he had gotten some amount of a reprieve. On the Wednesday after she'd heard his story, Veena crept up to her and told her that Nerys had whispered to her to destroy the dismissal form that she'd had her fill out for Jon the week before. Apparently, Jon had found the flaw in the prototype, an error in the machining of one of the parts, the day before its promised delivery. Unable to commandeer one of the mechanics away from the other project, he'd spent the entire night manufacturing the part himself and was able to assemble the perfectly-functioning machine an hour before the professor arrived to inspect and approve the work. The way Nerys' jaw twitched as she told this to Veena demonstrated that she wasn't pleased to keep the troublesome engineer on, but the secretaries celebrated quietly with a couple of fist pumps and broad grins.

"That's one bullet dodged," Donna remarked. "I hope that'll give him his confidence back."

"Doubt it," drawled Veena. "Once he's done with the orders for the final product, he'll be mopping up old projects. They won't let him near the Keller project, and that's gotta hurt."

"I bet he'll be glad to not be in the spotlight for while." Donna secretly made a plan to bring the engineer a congratulatory cupcake when her ankle healed up enough to bake.

Unfortunately for Jon, by that time, Donna had forgotten all about that promise. On the first day that she could walk normally without pain and that she had off, she tried to drag Nerys out shopping on the pretense of needing new flats, because she was certainly not going to wear heels for a long time. As her call had woken her friend up, Nerys' annoyed sneer was audible over the phone, and all Donna could extract from her was a promise to meet her in the early afternoon. Veena was off in Southwark or somewhere visiting friends, and there wasn't a power on Earth that could make Donna choose to take an outing with her mother, so she strung her purse over her shoulder and headed out alone.

Freedom never tasted so good! She'd planned to hop on a bus at the nearest stop - the one right near where she'd twisted the ankle, in fact - then take the Tube into the city, but the bright spring Sunday lifted her spirits so high that she couldn't stand to be stuffed in a vehicle for that long. There were plenty of fine shops in Chiswick, and half the fun would be getting there.

Donna spent two hours of the morning playing the discerning shopper, trying on all the shoes that happened to catch her eye and haughtily turning down every one of them (though there were at least three pairs she planned to come back to purchase later that day), and basically being every shop girl's worst nightmare. A little after noon, she purchased one of the best Cornish pasties she'd ever had from a tiny bakery and as she savoured it, she phoned up Nerys to nail her down to meeting her at one. Then she wandered to the park to rest on the concrete seating of the small outdoor stage; she was certainly not going to admit that by that time, her ankle was actually very tired.

On such an unseasonably warm and sunny early spring day, the park was packed with families on picnics, footballers chasing each other around, and joggers circling around on the paths. A woman stopped to hand Donna a pamphlet touting some minor candidate for the upcoming mayoral election, but quickly scurried off as Donna loudly proclaimed her support for one of the major candidates (selected at random) and gushed about his good features (which she invented as she talked). Grinning mischievously at the retreating figure, she stuffed the pamphlet into her purse and turned to watch a group of buskers that had set up on the stage, against the rough backdrop wall.

In the few minutes that they'd been there, they'd gathered a sizeable crowd, including a number of people leaning over the railing at the top of the wall, despite not featuring any music or signs to attract attention. With an audible "oh!" Donna realised why: all four of them were primes, entertaining people with their skills. The one in the front, his face painted over with a Union Jack, would have been a marvelous circus barker: he kept up a continuous commentary on his mates' activities whilst he performed his own tricks, levitating objects around himself and juggling them in intricate patterns. When the woman next to him raised her hand and whistled, a bird flew to her from a nearby tree and landed on her finger. It then performed tricks or flitted around her head at her order. She didn't seem to be able to keep its attention for very long, but a new one popped up any time she called for it.

A bloke who had a bandana tied over his face was a regular fireworks show, throwing fizzing balls of light of all colours all around the stage. At first, whenever an orb came near someone, they jumped back in fright, but after witnessing the spheres hitting the man's mates with no ill effect, the children in the audience started chasing them around to try to catch them. The last member of the group, a young woman with a woolen mask over her head, danced across the stage with catlike grace, somersaulting over her mates and scampering up the wall as easily as she could walk.

As the crowd cheered and clapped at each new wonder, Donna found herself thinking back to the discussion at lunch two weeks earlier, when they'd all wondered just how many people had powers, and whether or not they employed them for anything useful. Right here in front of her, there were four primes using their skills to entertain and earn money, which were certainly worthy endeavours, but what other kinds of things could they do with their gifts? The dancer and Floaty Boy had skills that had many applications, but for the life of her, Donna could not think of a single thing for which calling birds to your side for a minute could be useful. The jury was out on Fireworks Man: that would completely depend on what exactly those light balls were made of. Donna grinned at herself; obviously a little bit of the science at her job was rubbing off on her.

Shifting on the uncomfortable concrete seat, Donna gazed around at the audience. _I wonder how many of these have hidden powers, too?_ One obviously did. A tall, gangly bloke in a jumper and jeans, wearing a full-head mask bounded down onto the stage and joined the dancer, mirroring her movements perfectly and drawing amazed cries from the crowd. The woman was taken aback for a moment, being used to performing alone, then dove into ever more complicated acrobatics, across the stage and the backdrop wall, which the man matched perfectly. The audience clapped, keeping a tempo that sped up as the dance duel intensified, and even the other three performers stopped their shows and stepped off the stage to watch. Donna began to wonder if the two were having the audience on and were simply performing a rehearsed routine, rather than an impromptu face-off.

With a flurry of flips from one end of the stage to the other, the woman tumbling right whilst the man sprang left, they concluded with twin double backflips, landing lightly facing each other amidst raucous applause. The man bowed low to his adversary, presented her to the audience with a gallant gesture, then sprinted off, leaving her to enjoy the audience's ovation alone.

Donna clapped enthusiastically with a delighted grin on her face, then dug in her purse for a fiver to drop in the gratuity box. She wasn't the only one who felt the same way, and she grinned as she realised that she'd never before had to queue up to give money to street performers. However, it wasn't lost on her that all but one of them concealed their faces. She, Donna, might idolise them, but many, like Sylvia, distrusted them, and most of them couldn't afford to make their identities known. Even of the big primes, only Kathica was public.

After dropping off the tip, Donna walked on, taking one look back at the buskers returning to their performance before setting on the path out of the park back towards the shops where she and Nerys had planned to meet. The diversion had been delightful and she was thinking about the primes and the usefulness of their powers when a slightly muffled voice sounded beside her.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Donna whirled to find the male acrobat walking along beside her, his hands plunged deep in his jeans pockets. Coming to a dead stop, she pointed at him and gaped. "You! You're that jumping bloke!"

"Yes," he laughed. "I'm the jumping bloke."

She couldn't help gushing about the amazing performance. "That was bloody' fantastic!"

"Why, thank you." He bowed his head chivalrously.

"That was choreographed, wasn't it?" she accused him. "Because there's no way you could have done that like that."

He shook his head, and somehow she knew he'd pursed his lips. "Nope, it wasn't. I've never met her in my life, that I know of anyway. Still haven't."

"How can you copy her like that, then?"

He dipped his head again, this time in embarrassment. "I just can."

Something in his demeanour, in the way he seemed to shrink into himself, sparked a memory, and Donna clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god, you're the Doctor!"

He jerked back and she could feel his confused stare from behind his mask. "The what?"

Donna felt her cheeks flush. "That's the name my friends gave you when I told them about you, about checking my injuries." He didn't respond and she felt the need to qualify herself. "Well, you wouldn't tell me your name, now would you, frog boy? But you're him from the alley. I thought I dreamt that, that you ran up the wall."

"Yup-ah," he admitted, popping the final consonant. "That's me, and I did. But that's not my name."

"Oh?" she cooed. "Then what _is_ your name?"

He shrugged. "I told you. Don't got one."

"And I told you that you do," she shot right back. "If you're not going to tell me what it is, then I'm just going to call you the Doctor." With that, she glared up at him with a defiant smirk.

Crossing his arms, he stared off to his right. "That's a terrible name."

"It's the only one I have for you," she pointed out, her eyes wide with reasonable innocence.

"Fine. It's as good a name as any," he conceded and held out his hand in greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am the Doctor, and you are?" he asked with exaggerated formality.

"Donna Noble. Charmed, I'm sure." Pursing her lips with a snooty huff, she placed her hand in his, and he bent to kiss it, touching it briefly to the lower part of his mask. It was an odd construction: seemingly-opaque flat oval eyepieces set in a thin black frame attached to a deep blue nylon skullcap that covered his hair while leaving his ears exposed. A triangle of flexible but sturdy mesh hung from the frame to conceal his nose and mouth, though Donna could see the curve of his jaw and the strap under his chin that kept the mask secure. It clashed oddly against his collared shirt and dusty green jumper, like he was some kind of military spec ops uni student. Donna was suddenly aware that people were staring at them, specifically him, as they passed by. "I see you've graduated from the hijab look," she observed.

"By your suggestion," he countered.

"Can't say I approve." She gave him another once-over, and shook her head. "A bit Darth Vader, isn't it?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Well, it's more utilitarian than fashionable. I designed it so that it'd fold up and fit in my pocket."

"Ah. Easy for you to keep it with you and throw it on." Her eyes flicked to the passersby giving them a wide berth. "But people must stare all the time."

His laugh was a trifle forced. "I've not worn this much."

Donna eyed him with an amused smile. "Just to have dance-offs with other primes?"

"I admit I couldn't resist. It's not something I get to do much, move freely like that." Indeed, she could see in the twitch of his hands a carefully suppressed overabundance of energy. "Not much call for it in my line of work."

"And that is?"

Donna could feel his sly smile through the mask. "Quite sedentary."

"You really won't tell me anything about yourself, will you?" Donna couldn't quite hide the wistful lilt in her voice.

"No. I can't." His denial was matter-of-fact.

Donna started strolling toward the shops and he loped along beside her, hands in his pockets. She noticed that people were quite eager to stay away from the odd masked man, providing them a clear, easy path. "Why not? I don't understand why you and the other primes don't want to be known. Don't you want to be recognised and rewarded for the wonderful things you do?"

He turned his head to look at her. "They are, aren't they? Silver Falcon and Crimson Angel, they're household names, but you've no idea who they are and you wouldn't ask if you met them."

"Yes, but they're…" She stopped herself before she finished the sentence with "big heroes". It drove home the point that she was holding him to a different standard than the others. "I'm just asking you because I can, aren't I?"

"Seems that way." His tone was lightly teasing.

"Then I'll stop. I promise," she assured him. "But I still don't understand, why don't you all want to be known?"

"Because we have our lives to live." He pointed at his mask. "This isn't my life, and this isn't me at all. This is a dream, a fiction. I get to be someone else for a while. Going out and fighting bad guys, that's not something to build your life on. You don't want to bring that home."

Donna nodded slowly as she tried to understand. "Then you've someone to go home to, someone you're trying to protect from this?"

"No." Ducking his head, he turned away for a few steps, then replied equably. "It's just me. Just my life that's at stake here."

"But you're doing it, aren't you?" She peered up at him.

"Doing what?"

"Going out and fighting bad guys. Doing great things." Stopping on the side of the pavement, Donna peered up at him with eyes that were bright with pride for him.

Rubbing at the back of his head, the Doctor shrugged. "Yes and no. What you said, just outside your door, I realised that that's what I wanted. I want to use what I have to do something worthwhile. I felt like there's got to be some reason I've been given this. But there's precious little opportunity. I can get a cat out of a tree in less time than it takes to call 999, but anything bigger? I haven't seen so much as a shoplifter. I'm starting to think that the reason Silver Falcon's so successful is that he's able to fly to the scene straightaway. If I ever get a chance to stop a crime, I have to hope it happens next to a Tube station."

Donna laughed. She'd never thought about the realities of being superhero before. She'd only just seen them on the news, always right where they needed to be. _How do they know? How do they ever get there?_ "Well, maybe you can run on the rooftops, like they do in the films."

It was the Doctor's turn to laugh. He pointed skyward, and Donna followed his gaze. "Do you really think I could leap from that roof to that roof?" he asked, indicating two buildings on either side of the street. "What is that, fifteen metres, maybe twenty?"

Whatever length it was, it was certainly at least as long as the width of the street plus the pavements on either side. "Honestly, I don't know what you can do. You can climb sheer walls. Seems reasonable you can jump like that, too."

"To be truthful, I can't climb sheer walls. The one in the alley was brick, and the one back at the park is river stone cemented in place. It's all a matter of dexterity, identifying footholds, and managing momentum, not strength." He looked back up at the buildings above them. "I'm not that strong. Well, a bit stronger than normal people, but I'd be surprised if I could do seven metres, with a running start and a good landing."

"All right, then. That's not an option." She thumbed at her chin as she thought.

"I'll figure it out. Maybe I need a motorbike."

She regarded him with one eyebrow high behind her fringe. "Can you ride one?"

"Nope-ah." She could hear his self-mockery in his voice. Glancing around as she laughed with him, she spotted Nerys up the block, standing in front of the shoe shop. Noticing Donna walking with the masked man, she stiffened, frowning suspiciously.

"Oh," Donna breathed. "There's Nerys. I'm meeting her for shopping. Come on."

Noting the haughty blonde watching them, the Doctor stepped back, shaking his head. "Er, no. I think I'd rather find a fight I've a chance of winning, like Silver Falcon."

Donna grinned at him. "Yeah. Nerys' sneer is a special kind of supervillain." She turned to him, her hands clutching her handbag in front of her. "Doctor? Thanks again for saving me and helping me, in that alley. I really can't say it enough."

Averting his face, he tugged on an ear as he replied. "I did what anyone would have done. Just… well… if you have to walk home at night, be more careful. I can't be there all the time, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

Donna's heart leapt a little. Here was a prime, worrying about little ol' Donna. For once in her life, she felt a flattered blush spread over her cheeks. "I will, I promise. I won't dawdle anymore, for sure."

"What else could you do?" he mused. "Self-defence classes are good. You could get pepper spray, but that's really limited. You'd have to aim well and probably take your attacker by surprise. It wouldn't have helped against those blokes."

"They say to carry a whistle."

He cocked his head at her. "Oh, your shout's better than any whistle."

"Oi!" Donna exclaimed.

"Take care of yourself, Donna." Clasping his hands behind his back, he bowed his goodbye.

"Will I see you again, Doctor?"

"If I'm lucky." And with that, he strode off, losing himself among the Sunday shoppers.

Swallowing her pleasure at the encounter, Donna trotted up to Nerys as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Ready to buy some shoes?"

Her friend gazed at her with utter disdain, her lips a flat line of disapproval. "And who was that?"

Of course Nerys had to ask. "If you must know, that was the Doctor."

"The who?" The sneering had already begun.

"The Doctor," Donna repeated. "The one that helped me in the alley that night two weeks ago."

"Thought that was Silver Falcon."

"Falcon was the one that knocked 'em all out, but the Doctor was the one that stopped 'em, and then helped me home after," she reminded her.

Setting her fist on her hip, Nerys pursed her lips with a scowl. "And now you're best mates or something?"

"I just ran into him in the park." Donna rolled her eyes, growing tired of the questioning.

"What a creep," Nerys concluded.

"Oi! Shut it, Nerys!"

"In all of the greater London metro area, you run into him twice in two weeks." She wagged a finger at Donna. "That's a creeper for sure."

"Nerys!" Donna scolded. "He's a lovely man."

"Who walks around in black bondage mask." Nerys rolled her eyes as Donna frowned at the implication. "Donna, you have got to get over this prime-worship. Their celebrity status is blinding you, and you're not looking out for yourself. This Doctor, you just hear the word 'prime' and suddenly he's just an angel, isn't he? If he was just a regular bloke, you'd call him a stalker." At Donna's hesitation, she prodded more. "What's his real name, Donna? Do you know who he really is?"

"Of course not. He's a prime. They don't tell us who they are," Donna insisted, bristling as she gazed anywhere except at her friend.

"Doesn't that set off all the bells?" She threw her hands up at Donna's silence. "I know you're fascinated by them, but you need to be careful. You can't trust everyone that comes along, prime or not."

Rationally, Donna knew Nerys was right: it's not possible to tell if anyone's what they seem; even people you've known for years could turn out to be scum. But this Doctor… somehow, she trusted him, and moreover, she _wanted_ to trust him. Maybe it was because he'd saved her personally - he wasn't just a celebrity superhero on the news - and he'd taken the time to make sure that she was safe, and thus she'd put him up on a pedestal. Pursing her lips, she pouted as she tried to deny to herself that she was being foolish.

"You know I'm right." Nerys was an expert at being superciliously annoying.

"Look, Nerys," Donna hissed the sibilant end of her name. "You don't know him at all. Yes," and she raised a hand to cut her friend off as she opened her mouth to interrupt, "you're right. I need to be more cautious. But with him, I can tell. You know sometimes you just know it's right, that a person's good, deep down?"

Pursing her lips again, Nerys simply answered, "No."

"Of course you don't. You think everyone's a lying bastard." She laughed at Nerys' sarcastic sneer. "Okay, look, I promise. I promise I'll be careful and protect myself. But only if you promise to trust my judgment."

"Oh, you never listen to me anyway," Nerys sighed. "Fine. Just don't come crying to me when it turns out I'm right."

"Won't happen. The last one you warned me about was Lance, and see how that turned out?" She flashed a warm smile at the thought of her loyal boyfriend.

"Hmpf." With her nose in the air, Nerys turned to enter the shoe shop with Donna following, grinning triumphantly.


	7. Chapter 7

Once her ankle had fully healed and she was walking around on it normally with no pain or fatigue, Donna started working on fulfilling the promise she'd made on the first day she'd been disabled, to hold a party for their engineering group. Organising a gathering wasn't something that she'd done often - her preferred method of socialising was a pint with friends at a pub - but just the novelty of it excited her and she dove into it headfirst.

Her first choice of venue was Lance's flat, which was comfortable and large and centrally located in the city, perfect for dinner and mingling, but her boyfriend flatly refused, claiming he had no talent or interest in entertaining and didn't want to be responsible. The only other choice for Donna was her mother's house, and as she expected, asking her mother became a palaver. Sylvia pointed out that the house was too small for such a large number of guests, despite not knowing exactly how many guests were expected, then complained about what Donna expected she and Wilf would do whilst the house was occupied. Donna suggested they join the party and immediately regretted it as her mother berated her for expecting them to mingle with "the kids", as Sylvia called Donna's coworkers, though most were in their thirties or older. Then, without officially allowing the party to happen in her house, Sylvia began planning it, making most of the major decisions, such as whether or not to have the food catered and how to accommodate so many people at once. Donna's enthusiasm for this project began to wane.

As soon as they'd decided on the details of the event, Donna sent out the invitations to the group and was extremely disappointed by the response. All of the engineers and mechanics declined immediately, leaving the guest list at Veena, Nerys, and Lance, who wasn't in Nerys' group but Donna wasn't going to exclude him. With only three guests, it was hardly a party, and the implied insult was starting to make her regret she'd ever had the idea. Thus, she set off to the engineers' offices to find out exactly why there had been such a unilateral refusal by the techies.

"It's nothing against you," Anna hastened to assure her as she leaned back in her chair. "It's just that we're busy with the Keller project." She pointed at her computer screen which displayed the project design she had been poring over when Donna had knocked on her door.

"The Keller project?" Donna squeaked. "You've got weeks left on that! You're going to be working on it on a Friday night two weeks from now?"

"Well, it's our biggest contract and it's actually a tight deadline," Anna explained. "But really, it's a fascinating question and design. I want to work on this and get it right."

Donna peered at the design on the screen as if she had any possibility of understanding it at all. "What _is_ the project, anyway?"

"Well, this particular bit is a standard feedback circuit, but I've got to redesign it to fit among the rest of the circuitry, and the space that I have is unusual, so I've got to... " She trailed off as she realised that Donna had no idea what she was talking about. "The overall device we're creating, well, it's very innovative and I really only understand my part of it - well, I think we all do - but I think it's meant to focus energy. It's a small part of a larger system that Keller is putting together."

Though Donna had never been much of a scholar, she'd done well enough in her science GCSE to understand that much. "It's a lens, then."

Anna grinned. "Well, yes, if you like. Bit more complicated than that, but that's close enough."

"So, you'd rather build a lens than come to my party?" Donna pouted with a wink.

"Ah, you won't miss me," replied Anna. "Plenty of other people in the department."

"None of the engineers or mechanics are coming." Donna was pleased that she didn't sound as disappointed and petulant as she really felt.

"I suppose that makes sense. Most exciting project to come along in a while. Though," and she frowned, "Jon's not on the project. He should be there."

"Oh, you're right! I forgot." She glanced in the general direction of his office. "I wonder what his excuse is?"

Anna snorted. "That he's Jon."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Then I'll just have to go drag him there myself."

"Oh, good luck," Anna said, shaking her head.

Donna prepared herself for playing the bully as she strode toward the large office shared by Jon and Brian. Jon was not going to wriggle his way out of this: after all, she was throwing this party for his benefit - not that he knew that, of course. Stopping in front of the closed door, she straightened her blouse and took a deep breath before raising her fist to knock.

"Come in, Donna," came Jon's voice from inside the office.

She paused, fist in the air. She didn't think she'd made so much noise that he would hear her approaching, much less enough to identify her. Rather nonplussed, she grasped the doorknob and opened the door, peeping in. "How'd you know it was me?"

Sitting at his desk with his back to the door, Jon was reading some technical document open on his computer screen. "Heard someone out there, and I've been kind of expecting you," he mumbled. He spun in his chair to face her as she stepped into the room and waited for her to speak, his hands in his lap picking at each other.

Donna suddenly didn't know what to say. Wasn't it really his business if he couldn't make it to the party? Wouldn't it be rude to accuse him not having a good excuse for snubbing her? However, she was sure that he'd refused simply because he was too afraid to socialise with the rest of them, and she tried to find a way of coaxing him out gently. Maybe the best way was to put the blame on herself, not him. "Yeah, I expect you have. The party and all. I was really hoping… Jon, can I ask you a question? Because I know you'll tell me the truth."

Frowning, he looked her up and down. "Of course. What is it?"

She held his gaze as she asked, "Have I done something wrong?"

"What?" His surprise bumped his voice up an octave. "What do you mean?"

"No one's coming to my party." Whilst Donna was putting on a show to make Jon feel bad for refusing, her curved shoulders and hanging head weren't entirely an act. "Well, Veena. And Nerys, but she's my friend so she doesn't count. Though, you know, for a woman who makes more than the rest of us, she sure jumps at the offer of free food. But no one else, not a single one of the engineers or the mechanics. Did I offend you techies in some way? Cause I sure can't think how."

Jon looked very uncomfortable, but Donna couldn't tell if it was due to his normal shyness or because he was trying to hide a real problem. "No, I don't think so. Everyone loves you, Donna."

"Funny way of showing it," she grumped.

"Brian said he wanted to, but he's too busy with Keller." He shrugged. "I expect the rest'd say the same."

"Nonsense!" Donna crossed her arms. "People don't work extra on Fridays like that, and especially turn down a party. Something's got to be wrong that people aren't telling me."

"You don't really think that," he soothed.

"I do," she insisted "What else could it be?"

"No. You don't." His response was calm and straight. Donna stared at him. He was not trying to comfort her with telling her that she was imagining things or convince her to give over such thoughts. He was simply stating a fact, like he knew she was having him on.

"Donna, is this party important to you?" he asked.

She suddenly realised that yes, it was. Sure, her intent had been to get Jon to open up a bit, but she'd put a lot of effort into planning this event. That over half the group had chosen to plan to work late on a Friday two weeks in the future had injured her pride. Looking Jon in the eyes, she nodded.

With a hint of a smile, he told her, "I'd be happy to attend. Thank you for inviting me." He immediately glanced away, the apprehension in his eyes telling Donna that he couldn't believe he had just agreed.

"Oh, thank you, Jon," she beamed. "I really would love to have you there. It'll be the best time, I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

Sylvia's decision to not spend Donna's wages on catering meant that the two of them spent the evening prior to the party cooking, which wasn't Donna's favorite activity. She reminded herself that this was all her own fault and bore the drudgery of the evening, as well as Sylvia's constant instructions and criticisms, rather well. The hot food, of course, needed to be made fresh, and so on Friday, Donna found herself in the kitchen more than she liked as people started to arrive, and Wilf was left to play host, which pleased him.

By the time everything was under control in the kitchen and Donna could peep her nose out, all of the guests had arrived. She glanced back at Sylvia, who waved a dismissive hand at her. "Go on. I've got this. Get out there and socialise. You're the hostess, you know." With a grateful grin, Donna pulled off her apron, hung it on the hook behind the door, and put on a air of relaxed grace as she walked out into the gathering.

There wasn't much room or need in Sylvia's small house for a large dining table, so most of the people, as well as the food that was already out, were in the attached lounge, but with the absence of the engineers and the mechanics, it wasn't crowded at all. Nerys and Wilf sat on the couch whilst Veena and Lance occupied the two armchairs, and, as Donna had expected, Jon stood apart from the group, leaning against the wall behind them, listening quietly as the rest chatted.

Striding into the room, Donna grabbed two dining chairs and set them around the coffee table, then, marched directly to the wallflower and, taking his arm, coaxed him toward the empty seats. "Come on, Jon! Take a load off. It's the weekend. Time to relax."

"Oh, no, no. No, thanks," he murmured, pulling his arm out of her grasp. "I'm fine here."

The other guests had turned to watch, and Donna glowered at him in mock anger. "I'm not having guests in my house stand around like this. Come on, shift." She gave him another tug but he refused to move. Deciding that was enough prodding for now, she shrugged and, winking at him, flounced over to plop down in one of the seats.

"Well, Donna," began Nerys, "this has been better than I thought it would be. Sorry you got such a poor turnout."

Donna shrugged her complacence. She'd gotten over the lack of interest a while back. "Should have chosen a better time, sometime after the Keller project. If I'd asked around beforehand, it wouldn't have been a problem."

"She wanted it to be a surprise," explained Lance, "so she had it all planned out before she sent out the invitations."

"Well, I think it worked out well," Veena stated, looking around. "It would've been really crowded with five more people here."

"Five more?" came Sylvia's shocked voice as she nudged open the kitchen door with her shoulder and brought in a serving tray. "I'd no idea the group was so big. We wouldn't have been able to breathe in here. Oh! No, no, I'm fine," she protested to Jon, who had hopped over to help her unload the tray. "You go on and relax. I'm just bringing out more finger food. Oh, all right, if you insist," she finally conceded as he silently continued to take the bowls and arrange them on the table. "Dinner'll be another fifteen minutes but help yourself to any of this. Oh! Well, thank you!" she exclaimed as Jon held the kitchen door open for her. He followed her as she retreated into the kitchen.

Veena shook her head and murmured, "That one doesn't know how to just enjoy himself."

"There's a lot fewer people in there than in here," Lance pointed out. "That's probably easier for him."

"Is something wrong with that fella?" asked Wilf.

"No, Gramps. Just a bit shy, is all." Veena snorted at Donna's understatement.

"Could be more than that," said Lance. "Possibly on the autism spectrum, though we've no proof."

Nerys stared at he closed kitchen door, thinking. "When we went after him, what, two years ago? He was shy, yes, but not like this. Soft-spoken, more like, but he knew his stuff. Don't know about autism, but he's certainly gotten worse. Embarrassment, lack of confidence. Almost like he's different man altogether."

"Well, that, there's a reason for, at least." Donna eyed Nerys, and she sneered back.

"That's not on me," she insisted. "I can't afford to keep someone who's underperforming. His last project went well, so he's off the hook for now, but I'm watching him. One slip-up and I will fire him. Don't think I won't."

A crash of shattering china issued from the kitchen, followed by hasty, panicked apologies. As Sylvia's voice rose above Jon's, saying that it was fine, accidents happen, Veena stifled a laugh with her hand and Nerys rolled her eyes. "You see, that is so typically him. Everything he touches falls apart."

"Nerys," Donna chided her, "that was an accident!"

"Everything's an accident with him," Nerys replied.

"What say we talk about something else?" Lance announced in a low voice, shooting a reprimanding look at Donna. "This isn't proper, bordering on illegal."

During the short awkward silence before Nerys began telling Veena about a favourite appetiser that she knew Sylvia had prepared, Donna frowned at Lance, wondering why he'd singled her out as being inappropriate in the conversation, but he had turned to Wilf to check up on his girlfriend's grandfather and make a bit of small talk. It was hardly important, though, and she popped up and wove among the guests to sit down on the arm of Lance's chair, patting him lightly on the back. Lance looked up at her with one of his bright smiles, then returned to his conversation.

"As well as ever," Wilf was saying. "With them two working on this party all week, it's left me free to slip out when I please."

"Don't think Mum hasn't noticed," warned Donna. "You been down at the pub three times this week. I think she's been saving it up for a big row with you."

At Wilf's guilty grimace, Lance laughed and gave him a companionable knock on the arm. "Oh, don't I know it? Like mother, like daughter, they say."

"Oi!" Donna was more than a little shocked. "What does that mean, laughing boy?"

"Well, you're always keeping a close eye on me, aren't you, love?" Lance asked with a bright, amused smile. "Keeping me close, making sure I stay out of trouble."

Donna bristled at the implication that she controlled Lance like Sylvia controlled, well, everyone. "That's bollocks. When've I asked you to come over in the last two months, sunshine? Except when my ankle was busted. You're the one that insist I come out to the city, and that's maybe twice a week. Who's watching who, eh?"

"Hey, now, sweetheart," Wilf tried to soothe Donna.

"And we haven't gone out in forever, just 'cause we work together and see each other almost every day," she finished, her peevishness expended.

With his head bowed, Lance looked rather foolish. "You're right, of course. But I'll sort this. What say you come back to the flat after the party and the weekend will be yours, whatever you want to do. All of London if you want, or we could go out of town. You were talking about Brighton, weren't you?"

It was exactly what Donna wanted, but there was no way she could do it, and she grimaced in embarrassment. "Can't. Tomorrow's Mum's party for the club and I promised I'd help her with it."

"Well, then, what about Sunday? Come into the city early and we'll make a day of it. The whole thing, with dinner and a show on the West End." And with an enticing grin, he added, "And Harrod's..."

Donna shivered with excitement. "Blimey! You know how to treat a girl!"

"Anything for you, my love. You're right. I've neglected you too long." Donna leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"You two lovebirds have a great time," urged Wilf.

Donna had always known her mother to be a great cook and fine hostess, and once Jon laid out the buffet-style dinner without breaking any more dishes, most of the conversation turned toward the exceptional food. As Donna had noted two weeks earlier, the most prodigious eater was Nerys, who kept returning for extra portions of everything, whilst, as Donna had expected, Jon had half-filled his plate once, retreated to a corner, and picked at his food as he watched and listened quietly; she suspected she'd discovered the reason he was so thin.

The most surprising discovery of the evening was how well Veena and Sylvia got along. Donna's friend's penchant for the most titillating gossip fed Sylvia's superiority complex, and they laughed together at many celebrities' expense. As with most conversations of this type, the discussion eventually turned to Kathica.

"And you know she's changed the colours of her outfit again," Veena declared, rolling her eyes. "She decided that red and yellow was too tacky, and now her leotard is gold lamé with sequins and feathery edging."

"Ah, the fourteen-year-old figure skater image?" snorted Sylvia. "She's probably thinking she's starting to look old. What is she now?"

"Twenty-seven," supplied Donna.

"That's old for someone like that. She probably thinks she can't stay relevant if she doesn't look eighteen."

"She's a prime. She'll always be relevant," stated Donna.

"I don't know about that," Lance interjected. "She's running scared of the Power Down movement."

"Really?" Sylvia sat back, crossing her arms. "And what could they do to her? Much as I might agree with them, there's nothing they can do to a prime like Kathica."

Nerys spoke up for the first time in the entire discussion. "You don't strike me as a Downer, Sylvia."

"Well, I'm not, but they've made some good points." Settling back in her seat, Sylvia lifted her nose in her usual supercilious pose. "Primes are dangerous. You can't trust them. Now, that whole 'give up your powers or leave Britain' demand is insane, but there really needs to be some regulation and control. Primes are given too much freedom to do whatever they want."

Sylvia and her daughter had had this discussion many times before, but Donna felt she needed to defend the heroes of the city. "Mum, primes are people, too. They have the same rights as the rest of us."

"Yes, and do we have the right to physically fight in public and assault people and make arrests? Are we allowed to do all those things whilst keeping our identities hidden?" Sylvia's disdainful sneer was almost as expert as one of Nerys'. "All I'm asking for is some accountability. Register name and powers with the government, so they know where you are and what you can do."

Donna knew what that meant. "So the government can keep tabs on them."

Sylvia nodded. "Someone needs to. They're dangerous."

"Sounds to me like the sex offender registry, except these people haven't committed any crimes," Veena offered.

"Many have," Sylvia responded with a reasonable air.

"And many have defended us from them!" protested Donna.

Lance placed a soothing hand on Donna's arm. "We could argue this all night, love. No use getting worked up about it."

"Yeah, you're right." But Donna was already upset - arguments with her mother always did that to her - and she flashed a fake smile before standing up to put a little distance between them. "I've gotta hit the loo," she lied to escape gracefully.

As she headed to the toilet, she realised that neither Wilf nor Jon were anywhere to be seen. Scooping up two of the empty plates from the dining table, she pushed the kitchen door open a crack and peered into the kitchen where she found the two of them deep in conversation as Jon worked on the older man's partially-disassembled telescope.

"...should make the azimuth a bit more precise, but I'd really need to replace this piece here to make it work as well as it should. I think I could get you better quality lenses, too, though I'd have to look up how to order them. Optics really isn't my specialty." Jon seemed comfortable and unguarded talking with Wilf, though he tensed for a moment and jerked a little as if he were trying to stop himself from watching the door for interruptions. She smiled. Her Gramps was so good at putting everyone at ease.

"Oh, no, no," Wilf protested, jiggling his hands in front of himself to turn down Jon's offers. "Don't do that. Can't afford to buy new parts."

"No worries on the expenses. This is a great little project for me." His eyes shining with fondness, Jon gazed at the device, one hand gently curled around the long tube. "I had one when I was a kid. I thought I might be an astronomer, you know? It was a little cheap one and it broke a lot, so I had to fix it myself. I'd forgotten how much I loved doing this."

"Well, when you've got that put back together, what say you come up the hill and show an old man the skies?" He looked Jon over from head to foot. "You've a coat, don't you? Still a bit frosty out there at night."

"I do, and I'd love to." Jon didn't smile, but his eyes sparkled as he turned back to reassembling the telescope mount.

Donna took this moment to push the door open. "Boys and their toys!" she exclaimed with a cheerful grin as she entered the kitchen and crossed to place the plates with the others next to the sink. "What are you two up to in here?"

"Meeting a fellow stargazer," Wilf replied with a hearty laugh. Jon acknowledged Donna with a glance out of the corner of his eye, and she wondered if he'd ever stop cringing away from her. "Jon's a old pro at this, Donna. Adjusted all the gears and bobs on this thing, and straightened the bent leg." He tapped one of the metal legs of the tripod, which was currently detached from the rest of the assembly and leaning against the table leg between the two of them. "The old girl is almost good as new."

Normally, Donna would have made a crack about Jon breaking the telescope instead of fixing it, but considering his current difficulties at work, she bit back her first impulse and smiled sweetly instead. "It's gonna make Mum happy that you won't have to take that thing in to the repair shop again."

"That's a mercy," Wilf sighed.

"I'm almost done here. Then I'll get it back on the base and we'll be out of your way," Jon commented without looking up, concentrating on reassembling the device as quickly as he could.

"Oh, there's no hurry," Donna reassured him. "I'm just bringing in a few dishes. Honestly, I'm going to leave it all for Mum for when she's done moaning about the primes."

"Oh, ho!" Wilf laughed, shaking a finger at Donna. "Then they'll stay there all night."

Donna flashed her grandfather a grin and strode back into the lounge. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, she leant back to listen in.

"There, that's that," she heard Jon say, followed by the _clunk_ of a tool on the table. "Now for the base." Scrapes of chair legs on the linoleum were followed by a few taps, sounds that Donna had heard hundreds of times from the tripod as it was unfolded and set out. "If you could hold that right there… Perfect… Wilf, do you… well…"

"What's on your mind, son?" Wilf urged him.

"Well… Is it okay if I come around to join you on the hill now and again?" Donna bit back a soft smile at that. "I really did want to be an astronomer and I loved spending nights out under the stars. I'd love to do that again. And," he hastily added, "that'll give me a chance to maintain the equipment for you."

"Don't need to have a reason there. I'd love your company."

Behind the door, Donna grinned. Perhaps she hadn't accomplished her stated goal of making Jon more comfortable with his coworkers, but it looked like he'd warmed to Gramps, and perhaps that was even better. Not only did it seem like he'd made a friend on his own terms, if he came to see Wilf periodically, she'd get more chances to know him outside of a work setting and that cheered her. With a satisfied heart, she returned to the party.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note** : This and the next chapter are what warrants the T rating.

* * *

After a full day of toiling under Sylvia's supervision to make sure that Sylvia's club party went well, Donna was eager to get away for a day and spend it with her lovely Lance. It was still dark when she got out of bed and, once she'd dressed and gulped down some toast and tea, she hopped on the Tube into the city before the rest of the house had gotten up. Normally, Donna slept as late as she could, but today, she wasn't going to waste a minute of time that could be spent on the town with Lance.

The moment she let herself into Lance's fancy flat, she knew he was still asleep; the entire flat was wired with speakers hooked to his mobile's dock and he kept music playing every moment he was awake. Dropping her purse on the overstuffed couch, she crossed the wide living room into his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the king-sized bed.

"Oi, sweetheart," she called softly. "I know you're faking."

Lance, who'd been snuggled under the thick down duvet with his back to her, flopped back and gazed at her with bleary eyes. "How do you always know?"

"I didn't hear you snoring all the way down in the lobby."

He tunneled an arm out and slapped her thigh.

"Oi!" she cried and pushed him back.

"Oh, is that how it's going to be?" he grinned and pulled her down into his arms. Rolling over her, he pinned her with the duvet and dove in to smother her mouth with his. "You are just so luscious," he murmured against her lips.

Donna relaxed into the plush satin sheets and let him probe her lips with his tongue then nibble along her jaw as she ran her hands down the back of his pyjamas. Always delighted with the feel of his strong muscles under her fingers, she expected that no one in the company would expect the head of HR to be so toned and buff, and she smiled that he was hers, all hers. However, when Lance began to grind his hips into hers through the blanket, she ducked her head away from his and pushed up on his shoulders.

"Oh, no, love, not now," she crooned.

"Aww," he groaned and found her mouth again, the lingering end of the complaint muffled. "Why not? I want you, Donna."

With a light laugh, she pushed him away again. "Because I know you. Because once we're done, you don't like to move and you'll convince me to spend the rest of the day right here." He pulled back and pouted at her, but they both knew she was right. "No way, sunshine. You promised me a day of London and Harrod's. Then we'll see…" Though her tone was light, there was a sultry promise in her voice; after all, she wanted him, too - she just wanted him after the glorious day she'd been looking forward to.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned her down, spearing her with a seductive, dominating leer. "I could take what I want, you know."

"Ooh," she moaned, "hold that thought for later."

"Oh, all right," he finally conceded, rolling off her onto the bed. She immediately jumped up and positioned herself over him, grinding her hips into his and giving him a good look down her blouse.

"Just so you know what'll be yours later," she murmured, licking a trail from collarbone to his ear as he growled deep in his throat. She then hopped off the bed and grinned at him mischievously. "Come on. We don't have all day."

"Yeah," he said, his eyes flicking up and down her body. "About that. I'll be up when I can walk again."

Donna made the coffee whilst Lance washed and got dressed, and after enjoying a cup together, she dragged him out as he protested loudly with a bright grin at her enthusiasm. The day was made for wandering and shopping, and hand in hand, they went everywhere Donna fancied, starting at Harrod's and including Buckingham Palace, lunch at the cosiest hole-in-the-wall they could find, and strolling through Soho. In the mid-afternoon, they turned back toward Lance's flat, so that Donna could keep her promise before the dinner and show that night. As they neared the area where Lance lived, they passed through a wide square in which a crowd had gathered, brandishing signs and cheering occasionally as they listened to their leader speak from atop a low wall.

Hanging onto Lance's arm as he toted the bag with all of her treasures, Donna glanced in the direction of the mob. "What's that about?" she wondered.

"Don't know," replied Lance after trying to see what the signs said. They were too far away to hear what the speaker was talking about. "Wanna get closer?"

"Sure." They circled around a bit to read one of the signs and Donna gasped. "Oh! That's a Power Down rally, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Lance wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Let's go. I don't want to be associated with them."

Donna frowned. Though he teased her about her prime-worship, Lance had never expressed any opinion for or against primes and she'd assumed that he was tacitly tolerant of them. His firm display of dislike of the anti-prime movement surprised her. "Is something wrong? You think they're dangerous?"

"Nah. Well, any group has its fringe elements, so they're no more dangerous than most. I just… Well, some of their ideas bother me. The prime registry, for one. Some of them favour deporting primes. And of course, the biggest nutters want to kill them." Watching the speaker rile the crowd, he shook his head. "Government's not moving fast enough to deal with these problems."

Donna nodded. "Well, I don't like them either, of course." Lance was well aware of her stance from the arguments she had about primes with her mother. "Let's go."

To get through the square on their path toward Lance's flat, they needed to go around the crowd, close enough to hear the speaker's exhortations to do something about this "threat to society and life". He enumerated the crimes that the evil primes had perpetrated and punctuated his claims repeatedly with Lord Acton's famous quote. Donna wanted to turn and ask him what he thought about the fact that there had only been two major supervillain incidents in all of Britain since the Blue Rain and that the heroes spent most of their time dealing with normal human crime, but a squeeze of Lance's hand calmed her. It really wouldn't help, and it might even turn the mob against the two of them.

As they exited the square, cries of wonder made them turn back to see what the commotion was. People in the crowd were point up at a figure high in the sky, floating down to the front of the demonstration, the sun glinting off her gold outfit.

"Kathica," Lance breathed before Donna could open her mouth. Donna whirled on him in surprise and a bit of jealousy, as Lance had never before shown any interest or awe at the primes before, but she clamped her mouth shut as she saw that his brow was creased with worry.

Squeezing his hand like he had hers half a minute before, she laid her other hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "What's wrong?"

"She is. What does she think she's doing?" The prime landed in front of the crowd with a gracious, winning smile. Lance glanced at Donna. "She's been afraid of this whole movement for a while now, but she's an idiot. I mean, a real one. She assumes everyone loves her, and if she thinks she can calm this lot down…" As he turned to assess the situation again, Donna stared at him. She'd no idea he knew this much about the primes. Without turning back to her, Lance urged her, "Come on. I've got to see this." Pulling his hand from hers, he jogged back to the rear of the crowd, Donna suppressing her misgivings as she followed. If this blew up, she didn't want to be anywhere near it.

Standing at the back of the crowd, they could hear Kathica very clearly, and Donna wondered if she had voice amplification abilities. The woman stood above the crowd, speaking like she was a goddess descended from heaven to present herself to her followers, and Donna couldn't help but roll her eyes at the woman's cheery, airy delivery.

"...given these abilities to protect you all, to protect this way of life we all enjoy," Kathica announced with a magnanimous wave of her hand.

"Sounds more like you're just here to lord it over us," mumbled a man near Lance, and more than a few people nearby muttered their agreement.

"There are always a few bad apples in any bunch, certainly, but we will take care of them when they appear." Puffing out her chest, she planted her fists on her hips in the classic superhero pose, ignoring the growing wave of discontented murmurs. "We are heroes. You don't need to worry about who we serve and where our loyalties lie. We're all devoted to you. Silver Falcon, Crimson Angel, the Shard, Apparo - all of us."

Lance pinched at the bridge of his nose. "No, no, you can't do that, Kathica. You can't pretend to speak for them. And none of this is reassuring anyone. You have no idea…"

The rumblings of the crowd grew steadily and someone yelled out, "Go home, freak!" punctuated by a rock that flew through the air and hit Kathica on the shoulder. Though she wasn't invulnerable, she was certainly sturdy, so though it hadn't likely hurt at all, it annoyed her and she turned a sickening sweet smile in the direction from which it had been thrown. "Now, children, let's keep this civil, shall we?"

That was enough to set off the audience and they began pelting her with shouts of "Power down!" and "Go away! We don't want you!" as well as more stones, completely drowning out her attempts to placate them. Stepping back to the rear edge of the low wall, she leapt into the sky to retreat and flew toward the rooftops. She had barely made it ten metres up and had settled into her usual flying stance when she suddenly stopped in the air, her face a mask of surprise and panic, then plummeted to the ground, crashing a jarring heap.

Deathly silence fell for a moment, broken only by the sounds of passing cars on the streets bordering the park, then the Downers' ragged, mocking laughter rang out. Bruised and scratched and staring at her hands in confusion, Kathica climbed to her feet and clenched her fists as if she were testing them out, then rose a few feet into the air. Her face twisted into a furious, sneering smile; whatever had caused her momentary lapse, it was over and she was feeling her power again. "Which of you did that? What did you do?" she hissed.

The answer she received was a deafening _crack!_ followed by a splash of claret blossoming on her gold sleeve. The entire crowd gasped, stunned by the turn of events, but another shot rang out and though apparently it went wide, it whipped the square into chaos. Kathica leapt down into the crowd toward where she thought the first shot came from. Many of the protestors took the opportunity to attack her directly or throw more rocks; others stood dumbfounded whilst the rest fled or searched for cover. The press of the retreating mob tore Lance from Donna's side and she paused only to hear him yell, "Donna, run!" before she ran for cover herself, behind the trunk of a great tree.

This wasn't how Donna had ever imagined a superhero fight going. She'd always pictured two primes, flying up high, trading punches, throwing each other around. Or perhaps with someone like Crimson Angel, blasting at the bad guys with her red energy bolts. But here she was, cowering behind a tree to hide herself from someone who was shooting, she suspected, at anyone they thought had powers. Real guns, the kind that leave real holes from which real blood flowed. There might even be more gunmen; she couldn't tell in this mess. And then there was whatever it was that happened to Kathica. She'd fallen from the air, and she'd really hurt when she hit the ground. Those protesters now had an injured and _angry_ Kathica to deal with, and many of them were now on the ground. What was happening?

Peering out from behind the wall, Donna saw two protesters lying not ten paces away, stunned and dazed, a sign torn and crumpled beneath them. Donna guessed that the angered superhero had thrown one of them into the other, and she wondered how long it would be before she noticed they were trying to get back up and decided to return for them. Glancing at the bank of militant Downers, Donna convinced herself that their attention was on bringing Kathica down and, taking a deep breath, she ran out from her cover to the closer person.

"Come on, you've got to get away. Can you get up?" she hissed at the woman. She received a barely conscious groan in reply.

"Well, try your best." Pushing the woman up into a sitting position, she pulled her arm over her shoulder and tried to hoist her up. She was heavy, but on the second attempt, the woman tried her best to help with wobbly legs and Donna managed to get to a standing position with most of the woman's weight on her. She dragged her behind the wall that encircled the square and dumped her there. "Sorry. No time. Gotta get your bash buddy."

She dashed back out to the second person, who she realised was completely unconscious. He was a bit of a heavy bloke and she had no idea how she could budge him. As she contemplated rolling him on the ground, she heard something land on the ground behind her and she whirled in her crouching position to face it.

"Let me, Donna. You get back behind the wall," said a very familiar voice.

"Doctor!" She grinned up at the masked man.

"Go on, go!" He squatted down and tried to manoeuvre the body over his shoulder. "Oh, heavy!" he groaned as he regained his feet, stumbling around as he adjusted for the weight. He bulled his way behind the wall and dropped the man next to the woman not particularly gently. "Oh, I'm not built for this."

"Will they be okay?" asked Donna.

"I don't know. Don't have time to check. Too many other people in harm's way." He glanced over his shoulder at the main altercation. "Not much I can do to stop that. Kathica'd eat me for lunch." He hopped over next to Donna and grasped her shoulder. "You go on. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I can't just leave," she protested. "This is horrible. Those people out there need help."

Donna found herself pulled into a rough hug, the Doctor planting a kiss on the top of her head through his mask. "Oh, Donna Noble, you are brilliant!" he breathed. "Never a thought for yourself. All right. Let me get the ones still out in the square. You keep to the sides, find anyone that's hiding and show them out. There's plenty of them, and they should be able to at least get behind the outer wall." Without another word, sprang out to his task.

Donna found that the Doctor was right: every possible space that could hide a person had someone cowering in it. Each one she found, she encouraged them out, assuring them that getting outside the park would be far safer. With the few that refused to move, panic-stricken and frozen, she spent extra time to calm them down and try to get them to see reason. She managed to get some of them moving, though she eventually had to abandon two of them; there were just too many others she couldn't ignore.

As she moved around, she caught glimpses of the Doctor bounding across the open square, more or less doing the same for people caught out there still searching for safety, but providing himself as a distraction for the combatants whilst the people ran. Though Donna had immediately seen the flaw in his plan, it was the best they had, and the moment she dreaded came quickly: one of the militant Downers realised the man with the black mask was a prime and focused on him.

The Doctor spotted him, too, There was one person left in the open, a lone teenage girl standing in an open space watching everything with a sullen, detached air; the rest were at least hidden behind things. He sprang up and over the park bench next to him, then tumbled and rolled his way toward her, trying to give the gunman a difficult target to hit. He couldn't chance getting near the girl, though, afraid she might get hit by stray fire.

"Come on!" he called. "This way! It's safe over here!" She didn't move or respond, watching the protesters silently. "Come on!" he yelled again, desperation in his voice. She ignored him again, and he leapt toward her, ready to do what he didn't want: get close to her, grab her, and physically drag her toward safety.

The girl brought her hands up, palms facing forward, and a clear sphere appeared around her, glimmering in the sunlight. Twisting in mid-air, the Doctor landed with both palms against it and sprung off, somersaulting over the girl. Landing on the ground, he was about to bound back to test the force field again, but the _ping!_ of a bullet told him just how robust it was.

"Oh, brilliant," he breathed as he scurried away.

Watching from the side, Donna stepped out and called to the girl. "Oi! That's flippin' fantastic! Come on! Help me get everyone to safety." The girl stood there ignoring her, fixated on the angry mob around Kathica. A sudden movement in the sky caught her attention and her eyes flicked up to watch Silver Falcon descending from above, but she remained as impassive as before. The Downer whose bullet had hit her shield was consulting with the man next to him about what to do about her.

Astonished, Donna had to find her tongue to call again, "Oi, shield girl! Come on! You could save so many lives here. Shake yourself out of it!" This time the girl seemed to hear her. She turned slowly to gaze at Donna, her eyes fearful, then turned and dashed off.

Without thinking, Donna ran out of her cover after her. "Oi, come back! I'll help you! We need you!" In a moment, she was knocked breathless as the Doctor charged and almost tackled her, dragging her back behind the wall.

"Let her go," he murmured as he steadied her and let her catch her breath.

"But she can save everyone," Donna gasped and coughed. "Doctor, we have to get her back."

"No, Donna. She doesn't want to. Just forget about her." At Donna's confused stare, he took a deep breath to explain, though his words tumbled out almost too quickly for comprehension. "You think these powers are wonderful, but really, they aren't, not to everyone. They can be very dangerous, and they make you an instant freak."

"But, Doctor," she protested, "you can do so much with them -"

"Only if you can deal with how they ruin your life." A hint of realisation flickered through Donna's eyes, and he nodded. "I had enough of a problem dealing with mine. Must have been a hundred times worse for that girl, on top of all the usual teenage drama."

Donna was still not convinced. "But you do such amazing things. Is that really how you see yourself, as a freak?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I'm wearing a full face mask, aren't I?" He grasped her shoulder. "They're coming. The bloke with the gun and a friend. Are you able to move?" He barely waited for Donna's nod. "I've got to get you out of here. Let's go. That way." He pointed toward the street running past the square. "Over there. Let's not lead them down toward everyone else. Go on. I'll draw their fire."

The Doctor pushed Donna in the right direction then leapt around behind her as she broke cover. The two protesters were still far away, but the unarmed one thrust a hand at the Doctor as he jumped and he flopped, skidding on the pavement in a jumble of long limbs. "Argh!" he grunted as he pushed himself onto his knees as if he suddenly weighed three times as much and grabbed at his head. "I can't… I can't…"

At his cry, Donna dove behind a bench and spun around. "Doctor!" she called, but, spying the man with the gun, didn't dare dash out from her hiding place.

The Doctor groped around blindly, then touched something at the side of his mask. The lenses slid upward, revealing his eyes and he blinked rapidly at the bright sunlight. Dragging himself to his feet, he kept low as he stomped heavily toward Donna. "Go, go!" he urged her, and she dashed toward the street as he approached.

"What happened?" she called over her shoulder.

"That man," he gasped as he stumbled on, moving to put a tree between himself and his pursuers, "he's a prime. He took my powers away. Just for a bit and I can feel them coming back, but, oh, I felt like a deaf slug." He was certainly moving a lot better now. "He… he must not be able to do it much, or he'd have kept me on the ground."

"In there, Doctor, this way," Donna announced as she took an opening in the traffic to run across the street into an alley.

"No, Donna, don't!" But it was too late. She disappeared around the corner and he had to follow.

It only took a few seconds for Donna to find out why he'd tried to stop her, as she ran up to the back wall of the blind, littered alley. There was no way out, except back the way she came. She gasped out, "Oh, I'm sorry!" as he came up beside her. She noticed that he had slid his lenses back down into place, his eyes hidden behind the black glass.

He placed both hands on the wall, surveying the surface of the cement blocks. "There's no other way out, except those windows up above, but I can't carry you and climb. They're going to be here in a moment. There's no other way. Stand back." Positioning his hands about waist-height on the wall, he took a deep breath and stood stock-still for about three seconds.

"Doctor, what -?" Donna's question died on her lips as, with a rocky _crack!_ the section of the wall around his hands crumbled into rough sand. Much of the grout on the inside of the blocks also fell away, revealing the naked vertical rebar, but the back wall was still intact, and the Doctor leaned in to position his hands against it. Again, in a couple of seconds, it shattered into coarse rubble, leaving a hole big enough for Donna to climb through. "How did you do that?" She stared at him with an amazed frown.

The Doctor ignored her question. "Get through that and go!" he urged her. "Keep running!" He turned to face the entrance to the alleyway.

"You're not coming with me?" she shrieked.

"I"ve got to hold them off," he grunted, waving her through frantically.

"I'm not leaving you behind," she insisted, planting herself firmly in front of him.

"Grrrr!" he groaned, then snatched up a broken length of wood from the detritus on the ground and handed it to her. "Okay, okay, all right. Get through the wall and stay out of sight. Smack anyone that comes through that hole with that. Except me," he added hastily. "Got it?"

"Got it."

He helped her climb through the hole into the small office beyond then, mumbling, "Here they come…" sprang up the left wall to give their pursuers a surprise from above.

As soon as they rounded the corner, the Doctor dropped down on the prime, aiming an elbow blow at the back of his head, which stunned him for a moment. Knowing that letting him get off another disabling attack would lose him the fight immediately, he kept on him, spinning around the man to keep him between himself and the man with the gun as he punched him repeatedly about the face until he finally collapsed. Ducking to keep the falling body between him and his other opponent, he rolled out and sprang toward the other man, who turned and fled. The Doctor scrambled up the wall to peer out of the alley to make sure that the man was still running, then doubled back to Donna.

"All right, go, go!" he ordered as he dove through the hole. Dropping the board, Donna ran out into the hallway and, checking both ways quickly, charged to the right towards what she guessed was the front of the building, muttering her gratitude that it was Sunday and the building was empty. After turning to the left, the corridor led directly to what was obviously a reception area, but as Donna dashed through it to the front door, the Doctor called her back.

"No, no, let's not go out yet. I'll attract too much attention. In here." He beckoned her back and they locked themselves in the mail room. "Okay," he sighed. "We need to get you safe. Where can you go?"

"No, no, no," breathed Donna, holding up both index fingers to catch his attention. "First, you tell me what it was you did back there, blowing that hole in the wall."

"That's not important," countered the Doctor. "You're not safe here and we've got to get you out."

Cocking her hands on her hips, Donna settled into a firm stance, letting the man know she wasn't going to move. "I'm plenty safe. That's a mob out there, and they're after Kathica and Falcon. They're not going to chase down people who got away. I'm not moving until you tell me what you just did. I thought you were an acrobat like that girl in the park and a healer."

"No, I'm not a healer at all." Spinning away, he rubbed the side of his head as if he were used to running his fingers through his hair and paced across the room. "All right. Fine. I'll tell you. If I were just an acrobat, I'd be fine with being a prime, really I would. But no, there's more." He took a deep breath, obviously trying to compose himself. "I'm… well… I… How to explain? My powers, well, I've got enhanced dexterity -"

"Super dexterity, you mean," corrected Donna.

The adjective embarrassed him and he faltered for a moment. "Yes, I suppose, but that's only a part of it. I… I use sound." He wriggled and stretched the fingers of both hands as he talked. "I can create a sonic field around myself, any type of sound - normal, ultrasound, infrasound. I used it back there to set up a resonance that shattered the concrete. Anything brittle will shatter like that, like stone or wood or plastic or glass. A ductile material might soften if I can find the right frequency, though with metal, it could go either way, depending on how I use it. One time I tried it on a piece of chicken and I shattered the bone inside the drumstick. Never do that, by the way. Had to pick the bone shards out of my dinner."

Donna stared at him in awe, her jaw hanging loose. "You can create sound. Intense sound."

Clasping his hands behind his back, he settled into an even, serious stance. "Yes."

"But I didn't hear anything when you did that back there," she pointed out. "Just the sound of the wall breaking."

"Yeah. That's the strange thing. It's a field around me, not very deep, and the sound doesn't travel beyond that. But you can hear it like this." Reaching for her, he cupped her cheek, his fingers lightly brushing her ear. A swell of music, a violin solo from some classical concerto, filled her head.

"That's music!" she exclaimed.

He withdrew his hand. "Modulating the frequencies. I play, so I've a pretty good ear and I can make it sound like a violin. And, well, this takes a lot less practice than actually playing. But I can't do anything more complicated. I've tried to mimic a song I had playing on my mobile, and that didn't work. It was just noise." He shrugged.

"And is that what you did with my ankle?" she asked, pointing down at her leg. "Used your sound whatsis to check it?"

"Ultrasound, yes. I can hear and feel sound, more than what's natural. I can feel the feedback from my ultrasound just like the hospital machines do. And I can hear… well…" He seemed almost apologetic. "I can hear almost everything. I… I know where you are, and where everything in this room is, because I can hear how my voice and the sounds from my movements bounces off of it all. And… and I can hear your heartbeat, Donna."

Donna's mouth dropped open again, and her voice caught in her throat. "That's how you copied that prime in the park!"

"Yes. I concentrated on her and could hear how she was moving as soon as she decided to do it." He returned to ranging around the room, radiating nervous energy.

Donna continued to gape. Somehow, super strength, flight, super dexterity, energy blasts… they all seemed so normal in a superhero, but manipulation of sound? She'd never imagined anyone could do that, or put it to such use. And being able to hear almost anything? That sounded… _To be totally honest, it sounds bloody awful_ , she thought. "Your world must be so noisy, if you can hear all of that."

He stopped pacing and turned to look at her. She couldn't see his expression behind his mask and wondered what she'd said to offend him.

"Yes, my world is very noisy," he finally pronounced. "It's difficult, sometimes, but I've learned to tune a lot of it out. Like when you look around," and he swept his arm around the room, "you don't notice most of it, just the general impression and the few details that are important to you. I do that a lot to filter what I hear."

Covering her lips with a hand, she murmured, "Do I talk too loud for you?

Laughing, the Doctor took her hand from her mouth and squeezed it. "Everything's too loud for me, in a way, but I love hearing your voice. Please don't soften it." He shook his head in amazement. "Your empathy is astonishing, Donna. No one ever thinks about what it must be like for us."

"Only because you told me about that girl, the one out there with the shield." In a careful, lowered voice, she asked, "Is it really that difficult?"

The Doctor turned away for a moment, and she saw his shoulders tighten. When he turned back, though, his voice was light, though still serious. "It can be. It was for me. Very hard to adjust to. It still is."

"I never thought," Donna breathed. "It all looks so glamourous and empowering, I never thought how much it must have upset your life. I hope your family and your friends helped you."

His surprise was evident in the way his head jerked up and his fingers twitched. "Oh! Oh, no. I've never told a soul about this. Except you. I couldn't."

"Oh my lord! Why not?"

He flung an arm out the direction from which they had come. "Did you see that out there? My dad, if he lived in the city, he would've been right there, chanting along with the rest of that mob. My mum and my brother, they're a bit better, but if they knew, they'd hate me. And even if they didn't, you see what happens when you're around a prime? You're in the line of fire and you get hurt. I couldn't do that to them!" As Donna stammered an apology for her failure to realise how his admission might ruin his family and endanger his loved ones, he spun away, striding to the door and pulling it open. "We've got to go and get you safe. Now."

"Doctor, I'm sorry, really I am! This is all so new to me," she protested. "I thought, I thought your world would be so glorious, with all that power. I never thought…"

"Shush." Walking back over to her, he grasped her shoulder, and she could see his smile in the flex of his jaw, visible behind the edge of his mask. "It's I who should apologise. You can't know, and I shouldn't have gotten angry. But it's time you went home, and I've got to get back out there. I'm sure there are people still trying to escape the riot."

Donna clapped her hands to her mouth in horror. "Oh my god, Lance! I don't know what happened to him! He could be still out there!" Digging in her handbag, she pulled out her mobile and dialed him up, pacing back and forth with increasing apprehension as she waited. When the call transferred to voicemail, she left a quick message, then cried, "He's not answering! We've got to go back!" as she stuffed the mobile in her pocket. She dashed out the door, but stopped as the Doctor called her back.

"Donna, I'm sure he's fine," he stated as he came up behind her.

"How can you say that?" she cried, aghast. "He's in the middle of that -"

"Donna," the Doctor explained, "most of the crowd got away. He probably didn't hear the ringer in all the noise."

"But -"

He grasped her shoulders. "But I'll go look for him, _after_ we get you safe. All right?"

He was right. There was little she could do to find him, and if the riot was still going, she'd be a liability in the search. "Yeah, okay," she agreed, though she couldn't help pouting.

"Now, where can we take you?" he pondered. "We can get you to the Tube station so you could go home, but I think you'd rather stay around here and wait for Lance."

"His flat's not far. Well, it's a bit of a jog, but…" She shrugged. "I've got the key. Unless you can walk through walls."

"That, I can't do," he said, an amused lilt in his voice. "But that sounds like the perfect place. Let's go."

They trotted through the reception area and out of the main doors of the building in the direction that Donna indicated. "Now, tell me what he looks like, and what he was wearing…"


	10. Chapter 10

**Note** : This is really where the T rating comes from.

* * *

Donna knew that time was of the essence, that if Lance was indeed still in trouble, the Doctor needed to get back to the riot quickly to find and help him, so she strode on alongside the Doctor as best as she could. However, his long stride and superhuman endurance meant that she had no hope of keeping up. After only three blocks of almost running to keep up, she was thoroughly winded and had to stop.

"Hold up, jackrabbit," she panted. "Gotta catch my breath."

"Of course!" he replied, bouncing off a lamppost to circle back to her. "I'm so sorry. Take your time. We'll not get there any faster if you can't move."

The pavements on either side of the street were curiously empty, and Donna guessed that any pedestrians had either fled the area or, more likely, had headed toward the riot to gawk. Like the last time she'd been out in public with the Doctor, the few people around stayed well away from the masked man as he waited for his companion.

"You know," she said as she let her breathing and heart rate calm, "you could take a name like that."

"Like what?" He was clearly puzzled.

"Like the Sonic Avenger or Sonar Man or something."

Throwing his head back, the Doctor barked his laughter, and Donna got glimpse of a narrow face and a tall nose under the mask. She hadn't meant to sneak a peek of him like that, but she was happy at the chance.

"Those are terrible names!" he exclaimed, still guffawing.

"They're the first I could think of, you prawn!" she protested. "Give me an hour and I'll have it. Here's one. Basic but flashy: Ultrasound."

"Stop it, stop it. No more names!" he chortled. "I'm happy with 'the Doctor'. Besides," and he swallowed to stop his laughter, "never name yourself after your powers. That's just one piece of information you don't need your enemies to have."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, let's say you have lightning powers." His voice still had the lilt of laughter in it. "If you call yourself Electrogirl or something like that, then your opponents show up in rubber suits. Better to have a neutral name, or better yet, a misleading one. Then you can surprise them with your lightning bolts."

"All right, fine, Doctor," she drawled with heavy sarcasm, then grinned at him.

As soon as she had rested, they resumed their journey, though at a much slower pace, walking quickly rather than running. Both kept silent: she wasn't sure if the Doctor needed to, but she certainly had to conserve her breath. She spoke only to keep the Doctor on track to Lance's flat.

Upon reaching the building, Donna fumbled in her handbag for the keys to open the front door, and as soon as she got it unlocked, the Doctor pushed it open and followed her to the lift, murmuring a single word, "Posh," as they dashed through the lobby. The wait for the lift gave Donna much needed seconds of free breath, and as soon as they boarded, she slumped against the back wall.

"Almost there, Donna," the Doctor reassured her. "We'll get you in and then I'll find him, I promise."

"Do you really think he's safe?" she asked with a bit of a whine. She was suddenly very tired and needed to hear the Doctor's reassurance.

"Yes," he stated immediately. "I'm sure he is."

As soon as the lift door opened, they trotted off. "Down here at the end of the hall," she mumbled as she fiddled with her keyring to find the door key.

The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks and Donna whirled to him when she realised he was no longer right behind her. "Doctor? Come on!"

"Er, on second thought, Donna," the Doctor replied, beckoning her to him. "I think I'd like your help in finding Lance. I really don't think I'd recognise him on your description." As soon as she stepped near him, he grabbed her hand and spun to return to the lift.

"Doctor!" She yanked her hand out of his grasp and he turned back. "What are you on about? Can't be too many black men in the area. You don't need me and I'll just hold you up."

"Come on, Donna, I really need you," he pleaded.

"No, you don't. What's wrong? Why do you suddenly don't want me to stay here?" She glanced at the door to Lance's flat then back at the Doctor, her eyes narrowed. "You can hear something in there, can't you?"

"Donna, come on, let's go! We don't have time," he called, trying to catch her hand again, but the excuse sounded lame even to himself.

Staring at him for a moment, Donna whirled and ran to the door, fumbling the key as she tried to unlock the door as fast as she could.

"Donna, come back, please! You don't…" and he trailed off. He couldn't stop her.

As soon as Donna strode into the flat, the loud, rhythmic grunts accompanied by feminine whimpers issuing from the bedroom door across the wide lounge told her exactly what was going on in there. Shocked, she stumbled back, colliding with the Doctor behind her, who steadied her with comforting hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry," he murmured in her ear.

Anger constricted her heart, and she stomped across the room, screaming, "You two-timing, lying son-of-a-bitch! You didn't answer and I thought you got killed, and here you are, cheating on me the moment -" She rounded the door jamb and froze at a thoroughly unexpected sight: kneeling over a woman who was desperately trying to pull the sheets over her naked body was a dark-skinned man, his face concealed by a grey mask with black tear-shaped eyes flanked by two wings above his ears. He'd also grabbed part of the blankets and had wrapped them around his lower body. Nearby on the bed was a discarded light grey bodysuit trimmed with red ribbing and stripes.

"Silver Falcon?" Donna breathed weakly, her brow knitted as she tried to make sense of the scene. "I didn't know you had a Silver Falcon costume."

"Donna, I can explain." The voice issued from under the masked, panicked and embarrassed. "Really I can. This isn't what it looks like."

That was definitely Lance's voice, and it only made Donna furious. "It's exactly what it looks like. You're screwing some bint!"

"Oi!" protested the woman.

"Can it, missy," Donna shot back at her.

"No, it's not what it looks like, not exactly," cautioned the Doctor as he appeared in the doorway behind Donna. "Tell her the truth."

Apparent even through the mask, Lance glared daggers at the newcomer, yelling, "Who the hell is he?"

Donna was quite happy to point out that her new friend had the integrity her long-time boyfriend lacked. "This is the Doctor. He protected me at the park and brought me here whilst you were off playing heroes and damsels." She pointed at Lance and the woman with him.

"That's closer to the truth than you think, Donna." The Doctor stepped into the room. "Tell her, Lance. Tell her who you are."

That made no sense to Donna and she turned to look up at him. "What are you talking about, Doctor?" Donna demanded at the same time Lance rounded on the stranger.

"Get the hell out of my flat, mate." Lance jabbed a threatening finger at the Doctor. "I don't know who you think you are, but you don't know me at all."

The Doctor wasn't fazed, his tone even and calm. "I'm Donna's friend, and I know exactly who you are. We've met before, you know."

"Yeah, when?" Lance sneered.

"Nearly four weeks ago, in the alley in Chiswick when Donna was attacked by those three thugs."

Donna's confusion calmed her anger for a moment, and she tugged on the Doctor's arm. "You're wrong, Doctor. Lance wasn't there. I left him at the pub in the city and came home with Nerys. She got off the bus before I did, so it was just me and you in the alley."

"No, Donna," he informed her, "there was one other person there."

"Oh, don't you dare, mate!" Lance's hands closed into fists and he stepped off the bed, pulling the blanket free from its anchors to keep it around himself.

"Doctor! There wasn't anyone else, except those blokes and…" Donna gasped, her eyes growing wide as the Doctor's implication hit her. She pointed a shaking finger at Lance. "You're actually Silver Falcon!"

Lance drew in a deep breath to protest, but then thought better of it. He drew his shoulders back and nodded. "Yes, Donna," he pronounced in the deep voice she was so familiar with from the television programmes that had captivated her so, "I am Silver Falcon."

"All this time and you never told me? You know how much I… I…" Still not quite able to wrap her mind around the fact that her long-time boyfriend was one of the greatest heroes of the city, she couldn't put her sentence together. "How much I adore Falcon. Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted you to love me for me," Lance pleaded in his normal voice, "not for being a prime. I don't care how much you adore Falcon. I know that Donna Noble loves Lance Bennett."

Donna's eyes hardened. "Is that the way it is, then? You're two people, and as long as it isn't Lance that's sleeping around, it's okay?"

"I have to do this, Donna," he stated, waving a hand to indicate his partner on the bed. She was still cowering under the sheets, bewildered at the scene in front of her. "I'm not doing this for fun. This is for the greater good."

"Cheating on me is for the greater good?" squeaked Donna. "This, I have to hear. How can you possibly justify this? And take that blimmin' mask off, bird boy!" she thundered.

Unfastening the catches under his chin, Lance peeled the grey mask off and bunched it up in his hands. He threw fearful glances first at the girl in the bed and then at Donna, then sighed. "It's like this. My powers, they're dependent on my, er, well, level of satisfaction." Both women startled at that, and their surprise gave him a jolt of confidence. "Yes. When I'm horny, I'm powerless. That's what this is about. There's a riot going on out there and Silver Falcon is not there breaking it up and saving lives because I can't do a thing until I finish here."

Donna's jaw dropped open and she bristled indignantly. "Is that why you came on so hard this morning? Not because you wanted me, but because you wanted your powers back?"

Lance was appalled at the thought. "Donna, you have to understand. I love you! This morning, I wanted to make love to you to make love to you. But yes, I need to have my powers."

"And so that's what this is all about?" shrieked the woman in the bed. "You saved me from the riot to get your jollies because your girlfriend didn't put out this morning?" Somehow, Donna wasn't at all offended by the woman's insult; they both felt deceived and used.

Lance threw his hands up. "Look at the bigger picture, will you? What I do here defines everything I can do out there! I've fought villains and saved hundreds of lives. I've put my life on the line for this city. And I can do that because of what happens right here."

"Or what doesn't happen, 'cause it sure ain't going to happen with me," Donna snarled and began working the flat key off her keyring.

"Nor me," stated the woman, jumping out of the bed and retrieving her clothing.

Donna threw the key at Lance's feet. "You can bring my stuff to me at work tomorrow."

Lance dashed forward to grab her hands, pleading, "Donna, don't leave! I love you! We can work this out together."

Donna snatched her hands out of his grasp, wrinkling her nose like she smelled something foul. "Maybe you should have tried that first, instead of using me like this. And the worst thing is, I know you're just going to go find some other woman to screw for great justice. Have you ever thought of using your flippin' right hand?" Whirling, she stomped past the Doctor out of the room, followed by the woman as she struggled to get into her dress whilst clinging to her shoes and handbag.

Lance shook a quivering finger at the Doctor. "Oh, mate, you are going to pay for this."

"I had nothing to do with it. I was just bringing her home. This is all you," the Doctor responded. "Maybe you should've thought less about the welfare of the city and more about hers, hey?" Shaking his head, he, too, turned and left Lance standing, clutching the blanket, seething with anger and despair.

As soon as the door to the flat slammed shut, Donna burst into tears and staggered over to cower against the wall. "What just… How… I don't…" she gasped out. "I don't even know what just happened!"

The woman glanced at the Doctor, who was standing slightly apart as if he wasn't quite sure if he should attempt to help, then stepped closer in. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I swear. If I had any idea -"

Donna peered up at the woman the haze of tears. Though she really wanted to scream and rant at someone, she couldn't find it in her heart to be angry with her; she'd been just as deceived. "No, no, it's okay. If anything, I should be thanking you for… for that. I would have never known."

"What can I do to help?"

"Nothing. Please, just go." Donna collapsed back against the wall. "I'm done with this place."

The woman bent to slip her shoes on, then patted Donna on the shoulder. "Good luck, Donna. It'll be okay. You'll be better for this."

"Yeah."

As the woman waited for the lift, Donna stood quietly, her face buried in her hands. The Doctor fidgeted nearby, trying very hard to blend in with the wallpaper. When the lift doors finally closed, Donna turned to him, her eyes rimmed with red and her cheeks streaming with tears. "Two years. He's been using me as a sex doll for two years!"

"Donna." The Doctor stepped closer and grasped her shoulder. "He does love you. He was not using you. He's just got a warped sense of priority."

"It doesn't matter!" she snapped.

"Yes, it does." Squeezing her shoulder gently to get her attention, he waited until she was listening to continue. "The distinction is very important. He never viewed you as an object, Donna. He truly loves you as a person, as you. It doesn't excuse his behaviour, but you must never believe that you were ever just an object."

"How can you possibly know what he thinks?" Donna snarled at him.

The Doctor tapped his ear. "I can hear heartbeats, remember? Nothing he said sparked any internal rise in tension except when he was trying to intimidate me. Everything he said, he meant it. Well," he drawled, "it was his truth. He believed what he was saying."

Bristling, she spat at him, "Oh, so now you're a flippin' lie detector, too." Her energy suddenly flagged and shaking his hand off her shoulder, she jerked away. Her life had come crashing down around her ears and she just wanted to scream and punch and kick at the world, but that would accomplish nothing. She didn't even know if it was better that Lance loved her. Sure, it was comforting to know he hadn't kept her around for two years just for easy sex, but that meant that though he loved her, he didn't trust her with his secrets or with helping him overcome his difficulties. Maybe her love of celebrity gossip had convinced people that she couldn't keep personal secrets. She peered up at the Doctor. "Doctor, why won't you tell me who you are?"

He sniffed. "I told you before, I need to keep this life separate from my real life."

"No, that's not it." She could feel new tears threatening to burst out and she clenched her jaw hard to stop them. "You don't trust me, do you? I mean, how can you? We've known each other for all of an hour."

The Doctor replied, his voice even and firm, "I've seen and heard all I need to trust you."

Donna shook her head, certain of her understanding. "But you won't tell me who you are, and it's the same thing, isn't it? Lance didn't trust me, and neither do you."

Reaching up to flip the lenses of his mask up, the Doctor tipped Donna's chin up with his other hand and held her gaze, his large, round eyes serious and sincere. "I trust you, Donna, and I truly believe that Lance loved and trusted you as well."

Donna stared up at him. She felt she could see him truly in the warm protective depths of his eyes, all of his regard and respect for her laid plain for her to see, but there seemed to be something more in there, something she couldn't place her finger on. There was no doubt in her mind that he trusted her, but… She wrenched herself away, plodding to the other side of the corridor. "Then what is it? Why won't you tell me?" she cried, spinning back to face him.

The black lenses were back in place, concealing him from her again. "Donna, it's not a matter of trust. It's a matter of perception. If you knew Lance as both Lance and Silver Falcon, he can't be the man he wants to be for you. One or the other would just fall short."

That made no sense at all to her. "What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"I… it's hard to explain." The Doctor paced off, rubbing at his head with both hands. "I understand what he's thinking," he murmured, "but I just can't… I'm not good at this." Whirling suddenly, he dashed back to Donna. "He said it himself, didn't he? He said, he said, he wanted you to love Lance. Think about it. If you knew he was Silver Falcon, your great hero, your favourite prime, how could he know if you loved him or if you were just in love with that symbol? There's no way that Lance could live up to Falcon's reputation in your eyes. And Falcon, he can't give you a normal life. At best, he'd have to give up his hero work to devote himself to you, and at worst, he'll be endangering you. Lance would fail no matter what he does to try to make you happy."

Glowering, Donna hugged herself, remembering that rather than give her the chance to make it work, Lance had kept his secrets and cheated on her to get what he needed. "I would have loved both of him," she insisted.

"Are you so sure of that?" the Doctor wondered. "How well do you actually know Falcon? You've met him once for a few seconds. All you know of him is what you've seen on the news, and that's propaganda."

Donna didn't have an answer for that, so she grumped, "I loved him. I really did. He should have given me the chance to know and love both of him." Her eyes filled with tears again and she tried to blink them back.

"No argument there," the Doctor agreed, his voice soft and gentle. "I just understand why he didn't."

"You never will either, will you?" At that question, the Doctor bowed his head in embarrassment even though his face was already hidden by his mask. "You don't think that I could see the real you because I'll always consider you to be the Doctor."

Donna could hear the Doctor's breath as he inhaled deeply, then let the air issue from his mouth before he answered. "Yeah. This," and he gestured down himself from head to toe, "this is a fiction, made possible by extraordinary powers and a bit of glass and metal and cloth. I can't live up to this, not as a regular person. It's just not possible." The confidence evaporated from his voice and he fell silent.

"Oh, I don't think that's true. You wouldn't be doing all this, breaking up riots and saving people, if your heart wasn't already in the right place. That mask doesn't hide who you are. I think it magnifies it." His breath catching in his throat, he sputtered in surprise, and she reached up and stroked his cheek where it peeked out from under his mask. "But I understand and I won't press you." She could feel his eyes on her, burning through the black glass. For a moment, she thought he was leaning in to kiss her, his hand coming up to push the mask's veil out of the way, and she lifted her chin to meet him, but he broke away, stepping back as he scratched at the back of his neck.

"What do you need, Donna?" His tone was gentle and concerned. "I can take you home, if that's what you'd like. Or maybe your friends? You shouldn't be alone today. Nerys, perhaps?"

Donna drew in a stuttering breath. She didn't want to be alone, but she didn't want to tell him that she was already in the company she wanted to keep today. He'd done so much for her, protecting her in the square and supporting her through her breakup with Lance, and she just couldn't ask him for more. "I should go home," she decided, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. "At least it's a fast enough trip. I can make it on my own."

"Walk you to the station?" he offered.

"Yeah. That'd be nice." With a sad, wintry smile, she gazed up at him. "Thank you, Doctor, for just being here for me."

"You're welcome, Donna. I always will, if I can." He offered his arm to her and, taking it, she leant in close, clinging to him as they walked to the lift.


	11. Chapter 11

Whenever Donna had broken up with a boyfriend, she'd never found it difficult to find a confidante for compassion, comfort, and commiseration. That person was never her mother, as she was as likely to point out to Donna how she'd driven the man away as ply her with blankets and ice cream. Her usual choice for a shoulder to cry on was Nerys, her best friend since, well, since longer than she would ever admit to anyone. Nerys had never failed to bundle her off to a pub and helped her drown the memories of the relationship under a flood of ale whilst _listening_ , just listening. Everyone was amazed that Donna could tolerate Nerys' sarcasm and cynicism, but they never realised that her frosty shell was the way she expressed her friendship and that she honestly cared and understood - she was just very picky about whom she cared and understood.

However, it just didn't seem right to seek out Nerys this time. Her best friend was now her boss and the broken relationship had been with a coworker. Donna knew it wouldn't be appropriate to head out drinking with the boss to complain about the head of HR, and she wasn't sure that, with a couple of pints in her, she'd be able to resist spilling the beans on what had really happened and whom Lance had turned out to be. Her mind was clouded by the shocking revelations of the day and the destruction of a love that she'd thought was the one, but not enough that she couldn't clearly see that keeping Lance's secrets were paramount. She also knew that Nerys' sympathy would wane once she heard that the Doctor had been involved. Thus, by the time Donna dragged herself through the door at home, she'd decided to keep mum on the events of the day and break the news to her family a bit later in the week, when she could concoct a story that involved breaking up at work.

Sylvia and Wilf were surprised at Donna's return, having expected that she would be spending the entire day and then the night with Lance, returning home the next day after work. Keeping a tight rein on her anger at her former boyfriend, she wove them a tolerably believable tale about arriving at his flat and finding that having forgotten about his promise to her, he'd already headed out with some mates. He'd returned when she called to find out where he was, but the ensuing argument had so discoloured the mood that after they'd gone out for a bit, she'd decided she'd rather be at home.

"Oh, sweetheart," Sylvia exclaimed and motioned Donna toward the kitchen. "You want a cuppa? Let me put the kettle on."

"A coffee," Donna murmured as she and Wilf preceded her mother and sat down at the table.

"Anything you'd like. I've got in some of those biscuits you like, too." She protested as Donna stood to help her fetch the biscuits and start the beverages. "Oh, no, sit down, Donna. I've got this."

"What are you on about?" asked Donna as she sat back down, suspicious that Sylvia was actually being nice for once.

"I'm just trying to help you feel better. Yes, Dad, I'll bring you one, too," she shot at Wilf, who was timidly raising a hand to catch her attention.

Donna sighed. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything." On her way to the pantry, Sylvia stopped and glowered at her daughter. "I'm not so old that I don't remember what it's like to be stood up. Not much I can do but supply the biscuits and be here if you want to talk, but I was about to go over to Suzette's. I promised to help her with her garden today - she just doesn't understand how to deal with the pests - but I thought, if you'd like, when I got back, we could all go out for a nice dinner. We haven't had a family dinner in donkey's years. Yes, you too," she assured her father, "you can go off the diet for a day."

With a soft smile, Donna accepted. Her mum really could be very sweet and caring when she wanted to be. To a point, anyway.

As she prepared the refreshments, Sylvia attempted to get Donna to open up with a few gentle questions, but as Donna had very little truthful to say about what had happened, she insisted that she didn't want to talk about it and turned the conversation toward Suzette's garden. The neutral topic gave her a chance to relax and let go of her anger a little. By the time Sylvia left for Suzette's, Donna was simply broody.

"That was almost worse than being nagged at," Donna sighed as soon as Sylvia was out of the house. "It makes me nervous when she's that nice."

"Your mother's not blind, you know," Wilf said, placing his cup down and leaning toward his granddaughter. "She's been there before, so she knows what it's like, and she can tell there's something else going on." He paused. "Isn't there?"

Turning to stare out of the window at the garden where the new plants were just breaking ground, Donna refused to answer, and Wilf wagged a finger at her. "Neither of my girls'd come back from a ruined date with her tail between her legs. Not Sylvia nor you. You'd've whipped Lance into shape, so it must've been something else."

"No, Gramps," she lied. There was just too much that she couldn't say and she had to figure it out on her own. "That's all that happened. Lance wasn't there when he said he would and we had a row. I don't… I'm not sure I like the way he's been treating me lately, and this was just more of the same."

"How's that?"

She shrugged. "He takes me for granted, treats me like I'm barely there. I don't know. I know I'm getting too old for this, but I can do better. Find someone who respects me." She declined to voice what was going through her head: _Someone who thinks I'm brilliant_.

"You sound like you've given up on Lance."

"Yeah." Her breathy agreement was resigned. "I think I have."

Wilf peered at her. His granddaughter was upset, but not as upset as she should be, as any of the Mott women would be in these circumstances. He'd lived through three generations of them - four, if you counted the mother of his beloved Eileen (bless her), though she technically wasn't a Mott - and they all shared the same fiery nature. There was only one reason why Donna wouldn't be tearing the house apart just now. "That 'someone', you already found him, hey?"

It was not easy to embarrass Donna, but this time she could feel the warm flush of her cheeks. "No," she said with a laugh, though she really didn't find it funny, "not really."

"Tell me about him," Wilf pressed. He'd seen the brief sparkle in her eye before she'd ducked her head to conceal her blush.

"There's nothing to tell, Gramps. He's out of my league."

"Oh, now, where's my Donna, eh? No one's too good for her. When you see something you want, you go out and get it, eh?" With an encouraging smile, Wilf reached over and knocked Donna on the shoulder, and she rocked with the gentle push.

"It's not that. It's just, well…" She signed. "Do you remember, Gramps, that man that helped me home when I twisted my ankle? It's him."

"Oh, ho!" With a big smile, Wilf clapped and pointed at his granddaughter. "That's what you mean, out of your league. That doctor bloke!"

"No, actually," and she gave him a sheepish smile, "he's not a doctor, that I know of anyway. I lied just to give Mum a story she'd believe. I didn't want to tell her that he's a prime. You see, he attacked those men and checked me over using his powers."

Wilf nodded in agreement. "Fair dos. I wouldn't tell her that myself."

"Yeah. But there's more." Donna picked at her fingernails as she explained. "That night, I told him that he was good at the hero business, and so he's gone and done it. He's got a mask and everything. Well, except he just wears regular clothes and looks daft with them and the mask. But he's a real hero. There was a riot in the city today, and he saved so many lives."

"Sounds like a fine young man. What's he called?"

Her head bowed, Donna peered up at her grandfather through her fringe. "The Doctor."

"The Doctor? That's rubbish!" he exclaimed with a laugh.

"Yeah, that was my fault, too. It started out as a joke and he hadn't chosen a name for himself, so..." She shrugged. "So, yeah, he's not real."

Wilf frowned. "Donna, he's a prime, but that doesn't make him not real. They're human, too, you know. He's as real as any other man."

"No, he's not." She resisted the urge to jump up and pace. She didn't want Wilf to see just how upset she was over the Doctor. "He's made it perfectly clear that the hero I'm talking to isn't real."

"I'm sure when you get to know each other better -"

"No, Gramps! He said no!" she pouted, then immediately apologised with a soft smile. "I'm sorry. I'm just, welI, I don't know. I don't know what to think about him." She shrugged. "He's a rebound, Gramps. With Lance standing me up today, the Doctor was just the next bloke to pay attention to me. That's all."

"It don't sound like that, sweetheart -" Wilf began, but Donna cut him off again.

"No, Gramps, that's all it is," she stated with finality. She was deluding herself, reading too much into the three conversations she'd had with the man, and she couldn't allow herself to even think of starting down that path when he'd insisted on keeping her at arm's length. Switching her attitude to force the end of the discussion, she asked, "Please don't tell Mum about me and Lance yet. I'll tell her when I'm ready."

Will replied, "Of course, sweetheart…" and he dropped the conversation according to her tacit request, but he couldn't help worrying for her. She was arguing herself out of her budding interest in this man, and she was always at her worst when going against what was in her heart. However, there was nothing he could do to help her; she needed to figure out what she wanted on her own.

By the time Sylvia returned from her errand, Donna had brightened into a considerably better mood, or at least had put on a tolerably cheery attitude, and the three of them went out for the promised dinner, a bit early to avoid the crowds. Sylvia managed to refrain from antagonising her daughter through the meal, and after the enjoyable evening out, they returned home to their normal activities, mother and daughter settling in front of the telly to make snide comments about the reality programmes whilst Wilf pored over his star charts to plan his evening's stargazing.

Once the twilight settled into full darkness and Wilf began to gather his things to head up the hill to watch the stars, the doorbell rang. "Donna, will you get that?" Sylvia asked without taking her eyes off the screen. "It's one of the Millers' kids, I'm sure, selling their biscuits and whatnots. They're always about on a Sunday night, and I tell them every time, they shouldn't be out after the sun goes down."

Rolling her eyes, Donna hopped up and pulled open the door, prepared to greet a nervous little girl with an armful of samples, but instead of a pair of hopeful eyes peering up at her, she found herself staring at faded jeans around a pair of long, skinny legs.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes snapping up to Jon's astonished face. "Jon! Hi!"

Stumbling back a step, he clutched his arms around a brown paper bag peeking out of his grey hoodie and gaped like a goldfish for a moment. "Donna, er, hello," he stammered. "I've, er, I'm, well, is your grandfather home?"

Suppressing a giggle at his discomfiture, Donna replied with a welcoming smile, "Of course he is. Come in!" She stepped back to hold the door open for him, and as soon as he was right in front of her, she bellowed toward the kitchen, "Gramps! Jon's here to see you!" just to watch the man jerk like a startled cat.

"Donna!" Sylvia reprimanded her as she rose from the couch. "Behave yourself, won't you? It's good to see you again, Jon," she smiled at their guest.

"Likewise, Mrs. Noble." With a nervous smile, he glanced at the kitchen. "Don't worry. I won't touch your china again."

"Oh, don't even think about that. I've already forgotten it. Can I get you some tea?" she asked as Donna closed the door and joined them.

"Oh, no, thank you. Please don't make a fuss. I'm just here to see Wilf."

The old man came bustling out of the kitchen. "Good to see you, my boy! Back so soon?"

"Yeah, I've, er…" Jon glanced nervously at both Donna and Sylvia before continuing. "I brought that part for your telescope." Bringing out the paper bag, he dug in it and pulled out a shiny brass object, its smooth surfaces and sharp edges glinting in under the lounge lights.

"Oh, you shouldn't have! Come on in here. I've got it out on the table." As they retreated into the kitchen, Donna and Sylvia grinned at each other, and as soon as she saw the opportunity, Donna crept to the door to listen in.

 _Donna!_ Sylvia mouthed to her eavesdropping daughter in horror, who shot a _Shhh!_ motion back at her with a finger to her lips.

"How much do I owe ya for that thingummy?" Wilf was asking.

"Nothing at all. I couldn't find the right part for this model, but I thought it would work a lot better if, well, you see, this bit here, on the original part, it faces this way and that bit's up here. So I made this one at work. Should be a lot easier to use. Let me put it in and see."

"You was at work today to make this for me?"

"Oh, no, that was yesterday. Today, I got these." There was a bit of rustling paper and gentle _clunks_ on the table. "I picked up a book on optics and it recommended these for minimising the chromatic aberration. Thing is, I'll have to bring up some other tools to open the casing and mount them."

"Oh, no, this is too much. I can't take this."

"No, please. She's a beautiful instrument. She just needs a bit of care and she'll bring the stars down for you."

Pressing a hand over her mouth, Donna snuck over to sit next to her mother, her eyes wide. "What is it?" Sylvia whispered. "What'd you hear?"

"I never thought!" breathed Donna. "That Jon, you saw what he's like, a squirrel in a skating rink. He just told Gramps that the fixes he's making on the telescope will bring the stars down for him."

"Oh, now that's poetic," murmured Sylvia. "Just goes to show, you never know what people are really like deep down, do you? We just get to see the surface, what they want us to see." She settled back to watch the telly again. "He seems like such a nice young man."

"Yeah, he is," Donna agreed absently, distracted by another surface, another mask on her mind. She wondered if she'd ever meet the man inside that the Doctor was determined to hide.

Donna was still daydreaming when the two men finally emerged from the kitchen, the younger toting the telescope and a camping chair whilst the older carried the knapsack with his notebook, blanket, and thermoses of tea. "Takin' the hill!" Wilf proclaimed as they paraded through the lounge.

"Aye aye, sir!" Jon responded with an eager smile before he cringed with embarrassment, avoiding eye contact with either Donna or her mother.

"Don't wait up," Wilf as he scurried out of the door.

"Dad!" Sylvia called after him. "It's ten already. You can't stay up… Dad!" Rolling her eyes, she jumped up to intercept Jon with a direct order. "You take care of him, young man. Make sure he keeps warm."

Jon's eyes were wide. "I will, Mrs. Noble. We'll come back soon, I promise."

"Oh, let him have his time up there," she relented. "Just don't let him overreach himself."

"Yes, ma'am." Saluting with the telescope, he flashed a shy smile at Donna and followed her grandfather out into the night.


	12. Chapter 12

Donna anticipated being the focus of company gossip for a while and resolved to bear it with grace and as little malice as possible. When she arrived at work, she was amazed to find that the news of her breakup with Lance hadn't yet hit the grapevine, but as she thought about it, it was only to be expected: she hadn't yet told her family, and beyond them, she'd only told Nerys, who wasn't one to gossip normally and, as a company manager, would be doubly discreet. Donna was certain that Lance would never mention it on his own, so the only clue that might tip anyone off was the large box waiting for her on her chair.

As soon as Donna entered the office, Veena informed her that Lance had dropped the box off without a word. Donna realised that she could prevent at least some of the churning of the rumour mill by telling her friend the facts right away and so she explained that she'd dumped Lance after finding him in bed with another woman and the box contained her things from his flat. It was easy enough to spin a believable story without mention of Lance's alternate identity and the reason why he had been sleeping around. As she spoke, she was surprised to find that only one day later, she was not particularly regretful or angry, though she enjoyed Veena's sympathy and solicitousness throughout the morning. By lunch, it was apparent that Veena had spread the news as Donna had expected she would and everyone was talking about her love life.

It was a mercy that she and Lance did not work together and didn't see each other on a regular basis. He did come down to see her once, to ask for a second chance and then, when that idea was met with disdain, complain that she'd aired their dirty laundry to the company. When she countered that she'd given out a minimum of details to keep the gossipers happy and that she certainly could have told them a whole lot more, he pursed his lips angrily and, saying not another word, strode out of her life.

From there, it was a matter of dealing with her co-workers. Luckily, only her closer friends dared to bring up the subject directly with her, to comfort and support her and not for gossip. Anna and, surprisingly, Brian put the work on their important project on hold and insisted on taking her to the pub that evening, and the pints and the camaraderie did wonders for her spirit. She did notice that both of the engineers seemed rather exhausted and she looked forward to the project ending in ten days so that they could finally rest.

Recovery came much quicker than she thought it would as she fell back into her daily routine and realised that Lance hadn't actually been an integral part of it. They had enjoyed spending time together, but unlike in other relationships she'd had in the past, she'd never moved in with him and had spent most of her nights at home, averaging only two or three nights at Lance's flat per week. In hindsight, it was obvious that he'd arranged that carefully so that he had most evenings to be a hero. Now that he was gone, she found that his absence really didn't make that much of an impact on her life. It was only the hole in her heart that she had to heal.

There was an addition to the family's familiar weekly cadence that brought an unexpected source of comfort: Wilf's new stargazing mate made it a point to accompany him up the hill twice a week, and, pleased for both him and Gramps that they'd become such friends, Donna smiled every time he arrived. Even as he got more comfortable with Wilf, Jon said very little to Donna, preferring to favour her with a quiet greeting and then stand in a corner until Wilf joined them. She did find, however, that with a little effort, she was starting to convince him that she didn't bite and could coax a few more words out of him. It certainly wasn't easy, as she forced herself to restrain her usual exuberant, overpowering attitude, but was worth it: on his current trajectory, in about half a year, he might actually say a hundred words to her in one night. And she was getting to know him a bit as well.

The one thing that Donna didn't anticipate having to deal with was the frequent mentions of Silver Falcon on the television and the newspaper. The first occurrence had been the night of the riot, during the evening news, which reported on the conflict between Kathica and the Power Down movement and discussed the idea that perhaps the primes were out of control; they pointed out that whilst the riot had been instigated by Downers, Kathica had fueled it and kept it going. The announcer noted that Silver Falcon had arrived late to the scene but lauded him for finally breaking up the clash and preventing quite a bit of injury and property damage. Sylvia took the opportunity to re-express her suspicions about the primes, and Donna hadn't the heart to argue. Her ardour for them had certainly cooled, and though she knew she needed to appear just as excited for Silver Falcon as she had always been to keep her mother from suspecting anything, she just couldn't force herself to defend him. She found herself using the break-up as an excuse for her lack of interest in the subject; not even her mother would be so heartless as to provoke her grieving daughter.

A week turned into two, and work returned to normal. As the Keller project drew to a close, the engineers picked up new projects and Donna found herself happily busy serving them. By the end of Keller, her only task had been Tom's old project, which Jon was finishing up, but since it was also in its final stages, there hadn't been much for her to do, leaving her far too much idle time spent brooding on her problems. Two new projects, one assigned to Brian and the other to Tom and Anna meant plenty of work for both Donna and Veena, and that's exactly how Donna liked it, not that that would stop her from complaining.

"It's either no work or thirty tasks at once," Donna whinged at Brian as she took the sheaf of notes he'd brought her to type up. "Ever thought about finding a happy medium?"

"Blame Nerys," he responded as he sat on the edge of Donna's desk. "She wants to hire another engineer and another mechanic but they won't approve it, so she's taking on more than we can handle so that we look short-handed. I expect we'll get a third project in soon."

"And we all drop dead of exhaustion. Well, it's better than being idle." She riffled through the papers to see if there were any glaring problems with the work.

"I suppose." His voice dropped an octave and turned gentle. "Been a tough couple of weeks for you, hasn't it?"

"Oh, it's not so bad once you realise the universe has it in for you," Donna joked as she dropped the folder onto the top of her inbox. "It's been better than you'd expect after finding your long-time boyfriend cheating on you."

"Now, that was a surprise," Brian stated, pointing a finger at her. "I never expected Lance to be the type."

"Well, you never know what someone might be hiding. Taught me to watch a bit closer, you know?" A bit of bitterness slipped out and she flashed a cheerful grin at Brian to let him know she appreciated his concern.

"I have to say, I was surprised you told people why you two broke up."

Donna smiled to herself. She hadn't revealed everything, of course. No one would believe her. She'd only said that Lance had cheated on her. "Oh, that was planned. I told Veena, and you know, once you tell her, everyone knows." They both laughed at that. "I wanted to stop the rumour mill. I knew the HR girls were going to drag my name through the mud so I figured I'd put it all out there to see."

Brian smirked. "That isn't stopping them, you know. Especially Dawn and Lina. Those two harpies."

"Yeah, but the people who matter know the truth." She leant forward and squeezed his arm.

"Lance seems to be leaving you alone, at least."

"Yeah, he is. Mostly, he doesn't come down here anyway, but he's smart. He wouldn't dare provoke me." _Because I know too much_ , she thought to herself. _I wouldn't unmask him, because he's right, there's the greater good to consider, but he wouldn't risk it._ "It's all water under the bridge now." It really was. She'd moved on, faster and easier than she'd ever thought she could.

"It's good to see you bouncing back so well." He leaned back a bit, catching her gaze with his sparkling blue eyes. "Is it too soon to ask you to join me for dinner tonight? Marie's, maybe? No pressure. I'd just like to get to know you better."

Donna was stunned. She'd been seeing Lance for so long that she hadn't even considered any of her coworkers to be anything more than just friends. Her thoughts flew to the Doctor… But no, he'd made it quite clear that he had no intention of sharing his personal life with her. Recovering quickly, she smiled. "Not too soon at all. I'd love to."

"Fantastic!"

His mischievous smile made Donna feel like she had just agreed to become his partner in crime rather than go on a date with him, and it felt wonderful. She could not let him get away with that. "Though, you should know that your suit would stand a better chance if you hadn't just dumped a bunch of work on me," she teased, tapping the folder he'd just left for her.

"Then why don't I just do this?" Grabbing the folder from under Donna's hand, Brian hopped over and dumped it into Veena's inbox.

Laughing, Donna waved a hand at the work. "Give it back here, you wally! That's for my project. Honestly, it's nice to have something to do."

"I guess you haven't had much, have you?" he asked as he brought the folder back to her. "With Veena assigned to Keller, all you had was Tom's project, which probably didn't have much left for you to do."

"I'm the new queen of solitaire," she stage-whispered, then continued in a normal volume. "I have to say, I'm glad Keller's over. You all worked too hard on that thing."

Brian shrugged. "It's not work when the project is interesting. Been a very busy month, but that was some innovative technology. Too bad we can't get any white papers out of it."

"Why not?"

"Proprietary information," he stated. "It's part of the contract. Everything's to stay locked up in the project files."

"Well, you can experiment with it in your spare time, can't you?" Donna suggested. "That's what you did with those bits and bobs from that thing you built for that bossy professor woman from Birmingham."

Brian rolled his eyes at the memory of the difficult academic. "Dr. Seavey, she was. Yeah, I could, but I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Just don't, really." Picking up Donna's stapler, he began fiddling with the catch on the hinge. "Time to move on. Once they get that cock-up in the contract sorted out and Keller pays their bills, the machine will be out of Lab 8A and we can start work on the new project."

The door flew open, slamming against the wall, and Veena swooped in. "Oi! Come on down to the lobby! You gotta see this!"

"See what?" asked Brian.

"Kathica and Crimson Angel. They're down there, in full costume. Come on, shift!" she beckoned, then dashed out.

Donna and Brian jumped up to follow. "What do they want?" Donna asked.

"How should I know? Veena replied over her shoulder. "Iris just texted me that they're there."

The three sprinted down the hallway, picking up more people as Veena yelled the news as they ran, and, expecting the lift to be occupied with would-be gawkers, the mob piled down the stairs to the first floor to look out over the reception area from the balcony that ringed it. Veena's report was accurate: Kathica, in her gold lamé leotard and bleach-blonde flowing hair, and Crimson Angel, in her much more sober deep red bodysuit and mask covering her nose and mouth, stood unmoving in front of Julie, the terrified receptionist, their stoic demeanour and palpable aura of command cowing the crowd gathering above. Between them stood a dark-haired man in a plain black business suit. A nervous murmur of whispers floated down but did not distract them from their purpose.

"What are they doing here? What do they want?" Brian wondered to Donna and Veena.

Donna scanned the lobby and the three figures in it for any clues, but came up empty. "I have no idea." Glancing up at the spectators, she spotted Lance across the way and waited until she caught his eye. There was no mistaking her question, and he shook his head and shrugged.

After a minute of tension, Nerys emerged from the door behind the reception desk and approached. Greeting the two primes and the man between them with respect, she stepped close and conferred with them in voices too low to hear. Annoyance and indignation flitted across her face, replaced quickly by resignation, and nodding, she looked up at the gathered crowd. With a finger, she called down all of the members of her group except for Donna and jerked her head in the direction from which she'd come. She then pronounced in a very calm voice, "The rest of you, back to work," and turned to the three visitors and gestured for them to precede her in. As soon as the door closed behind them, the audience burst into confused discussion. With wide eyes, Veena grasped Donna's hand then scampered off with Brian.

"You'll be fine!" Donna called as they retreated. Glancing around the balcony, she saw the executives and the legal team pushing their way through the crowd to get back into the main building quickly. She also noticed Lance making a special effort to get back inside. _He must be going to find out what's happening_ , she thought. Though as far as she knew, the primes worked independently, they relied on each other for support and Silver Falcon would want to know what his allies were up to.

"What's going on, Donna?" Sharon, a secretary in Percy's engineering group startled Donna out of her thoughts, and as they entered the hall, other people nearby were leaning in to get the scoop.

"First I've heard of any trouble, and Nerys called down everyone but me. I've no idea why. Anyone know who that bloke in the suit was?" No one knew, and Donna shook her head. "Then I really don't know."

"We'll find out soon enough, I'm sure, whenever they're done," remarked someone Donna didn't know on the other side of the Sharon.

"Yeah. Best we get back to our offices," Donna murmured.

The wait for news was interminable. Having plenty of work to do, Donna kept herself busy, but she jumped at every little noise, as they all sounded like Veena returning. Thus, she startled out of her chair, sending her papers and pen flying, when someone actually did walk into the office.

With a quick hand, Jon caught the pen in midair before it clattered to the floor. "Oh, I… I'm sorry, Donna. I should've knocked." He indicated the door, which Donna and Veena normally left open all day to encourage people to enter freely.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Donna began grabbing the papers scattered across her desk. "Don't be daft, Jon. That's just me being jumpy." She sat back down. "So how did it go?"

"Oh." He paused with a confused frown, his eyes darting back and forth, then began fiddling with the pen. "Well… I… Er, it went as well as can be expected, I suppose. I mean, I'm not much of an electrical engineer so I can't really tell why it's not working, but I thought maybe if I could see the original reason for rebuilding the circuit, I could trace the problem."

It was Donna's turn to be confused. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Jon flinched slightly, as if he expected a slap in the face. "Tom's old project, the custom high-vacuum spectrometer for the University of Glasgow. That's what you asked, isn't it?'

"No, I meant the thing the primes came for."

An eyebrow shot up, and Jon dropped the pen on the desk. "Er, what?"

"In the lobby, an hour ago?" she prompted him. When that drew even deeper confusion, she clarified, "Kathica and Crimson Angel, and Nerys calling all of you down?"

"Me? No, I, er… I've been in Lab 2 all day."

"Oh! I thought…" Reviewing the scene in the lobby, Donna pictured Nerys pointing at… _Tom, Brian, Veena, Dave, Anna, Aaron… Jon wasn't there._ "Then it was just the others!" she exclaimed.

"What was?" Jon was thoroughly lost.

Donna quickly recounted the events of an hour ago, to the engineer's amazement. "But I didn't realise that you weren't one of them. And that means -"

"That means she only called down people who worked on the Keller project." Staring up at the ceiling as he thought, Jon scrubbed a hand down over his mouth. "I can't recall any other time three engineers and both mechanics were all on one project."

"Well, isn't that special?" Donna murmured as she turned to her computer and began typing.

"Pardon?"

"Brian was just telling me that there was a problem with the contract and that the product wasn't going to be delivered until it was all sorted. Hold on a tick." She brought up a file and scanned through it. "Yup, as I thought. The thing was signed out twenty minutes ago."

"So Keller brought in _primes_ to sort a legal issue?" Jon's voice squeaked in disbelief as he came up behind her to peer at the screen.

"Seems like it," Donna mumbled, still studying the paperwork.

"What is the Keller project, anyway?" he mused.

"Don't you know?" Donna squeaked. "I mean, you share your office with Brian."

"Well, yes, but, er, we don't talk much, really." With an embarrassed shrug, he glanced at Donna's screen again. "So what is it, do you know?"

Donna tried to remember what Anna had told her. "It's a lens."

"A lens?" Jon held his hands up in front of him with fingers in a circle to ask if it was exactly that, a polished disk of curved glass.

Having no real idea of how true that was, Donna threw her hands up and shrugged. "Well, that's what I said and Anna said close enough. It's for focusing energy, she said."

Jon frowned for a moment as he thought about that idea, then shook his head. "Can you pull up the schematics?" he requested as he started to roll up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt.

"Should be able to," Donna murmured as she searched the network for the project files. "I only have a read access license on this computer," she said as double-clicked a file.

"That's all we need. Mind if I...?" He choked on the end of his sentence and pointed at the computer and chair.

"Oh, please. I'm not half useless at this." They quickly switched places and Jon began examining the schematics.

"A lens, a lens," he murmured to himself as he read.

Donna pointed at a spot. "That's the thing I saw Anna working on. She said it was for preventing feedback."

"Okay. Hmm." Crossing his arms over his chest, Jon tugged at an ear as he continued to examine the display. "I don't really see how this would focus energy. I mean, first, what type of energy are we talking about? I think this could be input here," and he tapped the screen, "but it would dissipate long before it came out, which would be over here if it ever got that far." He scrolled over and tapped a different part of the design.

"But that's what she said," Donna insisted. "It focuses energy. I'm sure of it."

"Wait." He drew a hand down his jaw, then pointed at the feedback circuit. "Did she say this prevents feedback? Are you sure?"

"Well, no…"

"Because if it collects feedback instead and pipes it back into the system, and…" He popped himself on the forehead with the heel of his hand. "This over here is a converter, not a sink like I thought it was. So many of these systems are ingenious tweaks of common designs, I couldn't tell... So put all together, what does it do?" He held up a finger as he worked out the last bit. "It's not a lens. It doesn't focus. It amplifies." For a moment, he allowed himself a tiny proud smile, then frowned again. "But why? What is this thing supposed to fit into? Because it's obvious it's supposed to fit into something."

Donna had already been lost back when Jon had mentioned types of inputs and outputs. Her job required being able to construct complete sentences out of the mess of technobabble the engineers scrawled down, but she normally didn't need to understand any of it. Instead, she'd been watching his mobile face as he'd worked through the design, fascinated by how expressive and intelligent he was during unguarded moments. Caught off-guard by the question aimed at her, she shrugged. "I don't know. Some new energy source, maybe?"

Jon frowned and stared at her. "Why would you think that?" he asked, his tone thoughtful, trying to figure out Donna's reasoning rather than expressing disbelief. "Given its size and shape, this looks more like it's meant to be portable."

Donna shrugged. "Well, an energy source is more like what an environmental company would make, I'd think."

"Keller is an environmental company?" he squeaked, astonished.

"It's right in the name. Keller Environmentals."

Jon opened a web browser and typed the name into the search bar. No exact matches were returned. "Did I spell that right?"

Donna leant over to peer at the screen to check what he had typed. "As far as I know."

"A company with no webpage in this day and age? And not even a mention in any news media or industry blogs?" Frustrated by the nonsense he was reading, Jon slumped back in the chair and raked a hand through his hair.

"Could be new. Here, let me." They switched places again and Donna brought up the client files. "Keller Environmentals. No street address, only a P.O. box. Company contact is a man named Harold Saxon."

Jon frowned over her shoulder at the screen. "No listings for legal, accounting, or technical contacts. Did this Harold Saxon do everything?"

"That would explain the legal issues with the contract, wouldn't it?" Donna flopped back in the chair. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Don't know. Never heard of it before."

"No, wait! I know where I've heard it." Ducking down to slide open the bottom drawer of her desk, Donna pulled her handbag out and dug in it, pulling out a folded paper that had been crushed under the other items. Smoothing it out, she held it up for Jon to see. "I knew it! He's running for mayor as an independent." She pointed at the smiling face on the cover of the pamphlet. "That's definitely the man from the lobby today."

Jon stared at the paper like she'd just pulled an armadillo out of her purse. "Where did you get that from?"

"They were handing them out in a park in Chiswick, maybe three weeks ago?" Unfolding the paper, she glanced over the contents. "I meant to read it, but I forgot about it."

"Hmm," he murmured, his head bobbing in amazement at her discovery. "Considering an independent?"

"I try to look at everyone," she shrugged as she skimmed. "You know, there's never one that I like. And their wives tend to set the 'never want to be caught dead in that' fashion trend for the year."

Jon grinned in spite of himself. "Ah. I'm strict Labour all the way. Well, I voted for Livingstone when he went independent, but, well, that was voting for Labour, really." Realising he was talking politics, he coloured and looked anywhere except at her. His eyes alighted on the pamphlet. "May I?" he asked, gesturing at it.

"Of course."

Taking it, he scanned through it quickly. "Well, that's political propaganda for you. It's all tosh about how he'll bring London to the fore again and uphold family values without a lick about his actual policies. What's his website say?"

Donna turned back to the computer and searched. "Well, he has a website, at least." She was about to click on the link when Jon stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, which he quickly snatched away.

"No, click the one below it," he asked, pointing at the screen. "Please," he mumbled as an afterthought.

The page bloomed into a news article about the up-and-coming candidate, detailing Saxon's meteoric rise in popularity since his entry into the mayoral race six weeks previously. Describing him as a grass-roots candidate, the article detailed how he eschewed the media and preferred to speak directly to small live audiences and campaign door-to-door. He was known for refusing to allow news cameras at his rallies, claiming that the sound bites that get out to the public that way destroyed his message. The article noted that if he maintained his trajectory in the polls, he wouldn't be able to defeat either of the two frontrunners, but he'd garner a large percentage of the votes and would be a power in the next election.

"What's so fantastic about him then?" Donna murmured after they'd finished reading and she started exploring his campaign website.

"I've no idea," Jon replied, at a loss for words. As Donna navigated the website, they skimmed it silently; and Jon spoke only to ask to see specific things. As with the pamphlet, they found little information about his platform, though they did find his history, as the proprietor of computer repair company. Saxon had been active in his community for years, but not to any remarkable extent, and there was no mention of any other attempts to run for public office. There was also no mention of his owning an environmental company.

"So," Jon pronounced, ticking off what they knew on his fingers as Donna spun in her chair to face him, "this independent candidate for mayor of London is a nobody business owner who seems to be poised to be elected by landslide four years from now, despite the fact that no one knows what he stands for. He's the only employee of a company that doesn't exist and commissions a next-gen energy amplifier, then shows up with primes to pick it up after a legal cock-up."

"Seems like," she nodded. It was a succinct and accurate summation of everything they knew.

He caught her gaze, his eyes dark. "Which implies?"

Donna took a wild guess. "That he needs the device right now, probably for his campaign, and they came here to take the deliverables home, because why else would you need a superstrength and an energy blaster?"

Jon returned her nod. "One to carry the device and one to imply that they'll blast their way in and out if someone tries to stop them. But why would his campaign need a specialised amplifier..."

"...and how did he convince Kathica and Crimson Angel to do this?" That was the thing that was bothering Donna. How does anyone go about getting superheroes to exercise their powers, or at least their reputation and intimidation, in a mundane situation? "Unless now they're enforcing contract law."

"And will you look at this?" Jon reached across her to tap on the screen. "A calendar of appearances. His last appearance was last week, but he's got one on Sunday - look, a big one, his biggest yet - and then more frequently throughout the rest of the campaign season all across London, almost every day." He paced away. "Just what is going on? Why does he need an energy amplifier at a campaign rally?" he murmured to himself, thinking.

Donna tapped her chin, then spun and picked up the phone. As she made her call and waited for an answer, Jon stopped and watched her. "Hey, Ron, it's Donna… Yeah… That's what I was calling about… Do you know where… Sure, I understand. Thanks."

As she replaced the receiver in the cradle, Jon grinned at her. "If you need to know where something's going, you ask shipping! That was a fantastic idea! Oh, Donna, you are brilliant!" Stunned by both his compliment and his phrasing, she whirled to face him, her ginger hair flipping over her shoulder, but he was gazing into space, his arms crossed and one finger tapping the tip of his nose. "Wish he could have told you where they were sending it."

Donna stared at him. "How'd you hear that?"

Jon waved away her question. "Ron's loud. Quite clear." He strode away from the desk. "I just don't see what there is to do. All we have is conjecture."

Turning back to her desk, she found her notepad and began writing down everything they'd figured out. "We've quite a bit of evidence that something's fishy."

"Most of it is confidential by contract." Jon began pacing nervously again, as if he'd had too much coffee and couldn't keep himself still. "Really, we've no proof that anything is actually wrong, and even less facility to do anything about it."

"Maybe if we can tell a prime like Silver Falcon…" Donna forced herself to sound like she'd lost hope and was throwing out a weak suggestion. Jon wouldn't know that telling Silver Falcon was the easiest and best path.

The engineer didn't even break his stride. "Is that even possible? Not by me, it isn't."

"Yeah. Not the best suggestion. Well, I'll ask Nerys about what's going on." Donna collapsed back in her chair as if defeated. It was time to rid herself of Jon and find Lance. He was the one who would sort this. "She'll know what to do."

Jon stopped and eyed her closely. "Okay, but please let me know as soon as you see something suspicious. I don't want you getting caught up in something dangerous."

"Of course. I'll be careful." Donna had no intention of getting Jon involved in anything, not when Lance was only a couple of levels above them. It was useful to personally know a powerful prime. "You said you came in for something?"

"What?" That eyebrow that shot up when Jon was confused nearly made Donna giggle.

"When you came in," she reminded him. "You said you needed a circuit or something."

"Oh! Oh! Yes!" he exclaimed before realising how familiar he was being with Donna and took a step back. "The pre-design work. For Tom's project. Could you please send me those?" His request was much more sober and formal.

"Of course, Jon. I'll email them right away." She couldn't help but grin fondly at him. He was both sharp and personable when he let himself be, and they'd worked together like a charm.

"Thank you, Donna." She wasn't quite sure how he did it, but his soft smile lit up the room. He loped toward the door, then, hesitating for a step, turned back. "Take care of yourself," he urged.

"You, too, Jon," she called as he headed back to his office.


	13. Chapter 13

It took Donna a few minutes to find the files Jon requested and send them off to him, and then, grabbing her notes, she set off to find Lance. Striding out of the office and toward the lift, her hair swept back and forth with the force of her steps. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the carriage to arrive, and then again as it took her up to the executive offices. As soon as she walked into the human resources suite, Lina, one of the other HR people, shot her a dirty look. _Oh, get over it, you daft bimbo_ , she spat at her silently as she favoured the woman with a friendly smile. _I'm over it, he's over it, so you can just forget it all ever happened_. "Hoi, Lina, is he in?"

The woman placed a leisurely hand on her mouse and glanced at her screen. "I'll see if he has some time open in his schedule," she drawled.

"Oh, put a sock in it," Donna snapped as she strode past the woman's desk to Lance's closed office door. "He's HR, not an exec." She tapped the rhythm she used to use when she knocked on the door to his flat then slipped in, closing the door behind her.

Bent over some paperwork, Lance betrayed no surprise as he looked up at the woman stepping into his office. "Hi, Donna. I thought you'd come here eventually."

Donna glanced behind her to make sure the door was securely closed then approached, leaning close to speak softly. "Did you find out what's going on? They're still down in shipping, far as I know."

"I checked," he told her with a reassuring nod. "It's nothing, turns out. The owner of Keller Environmentals-"

"Harold Saxon," Donna filled in for him.

"Yes. Mr. Saxon. He needed immediate delivery of his order and having Kathica carry it was more efficient than having it boxed up and loaded into a lorry." Lance's tone was reasonable and final, and it grated on Donna's sensibilities.

"But the contract wasn't finished. It was held up in legal and Keller hasn't paid." When Lance didn't seem to have any problem with that information, Donna summed it up for him, jabbing a finger down on the surface of his desk. "We don't deliver until everything is all lined up."

Lance waved away her protest. "Oh, Nerys took care of that. She said everything's on the level."

This wasn't adding up. Donna set her fists on her hips. "And Crimson Angel?"

"What about her?"

Why was Lance being so thick? After seeing eye-to-eye on everything with Jon, this was like… well, it was like discussing something with an ex-boyfriend. "What is she here for? She's an energy blaster. She can't help Mr. Saxon here in any way."

Lance shrugged. "Apparently, she just came along with Kathica. They work together, you know."

"Kathica? Work with another woman?" Donna barely restrained herself from shrieking that out. "Don't be daft, Lance! None of you work together except by chance, Kathica especially."

"Donna." Lance flashed her a mollifying smile. "It's all sorted. Sure, the entrance was a bit flashy, but it's all done now."

Donna stared at Lance, trying to recognise in him either the man she thought he'd been for the last two years or the superhero who fought villains and protected the innocent. "Doesn't this seem suspicious at all to you? The man's a politician. What does he need whatever that thing is for?"

Lance shrugged, completely unconcerned. "Everything's copacetic. We're not in the business of judging what our clients do with the things they order from us. And besides, his company ordered it, not him. Why would you think that he's using it for his political career?"

"Because his company doesn't exist. It's a front." Frustrated, Donna stomped her foot and set her fists on her hips again. "Lance, think like a hero, not like an employee. Doesn't this set off any alarms?"

Pursing his lips, Lance shook his head, fixing Donna with a sad stare. "Nope. Doesn't seem to be anything wrong. I don't care to go looking for problems that just aren't there. I've got enough to worry about as it is."

Donna drew in a breath to argue, then sighed. "All right. Thanks for listening." Trying to mask how defeated she felt, she flashed a smile at him and slipped out, ignoring Lina, who sniffed superciliously as she passed.

After everything she'd heard from Jon and Lance, Donna was sure that something strange was going on here and she mulled it over in her mind as she returned to her desk. Nothing made sense, and she had no idea where to take her suspicions. She couldn't take this outside the company: since her evidence about Keller Environmentals was private information, normal law enforcement couldn't help. There was no one within the company who had any ability to do anything except one person, and he flatly refused to believe anything might be wrong. The only hope she had was to leak information to a prime who might choose to follow the leads, but how could she do that?

At her desk, Donna plopped into her chair and stared at the pile of papers in her inbox, then dug her handbag out of the bottom desk drawer and strode out. It was Friday, and no one would care if she left early, if they even noticed at all. Her mind was whirling too much for her to do useful work anyway.

When the early spring sunlight flashed in her eyes as she stepped out of the front door of the building, Donna realised that she had no idea what she should do. As her feet took her by habit on the route toward the Tube station, she tried to come up with any way to attract the attention of a prime. It couldn't be any of the big three, of course: without Lance, that left Kathica and Crimson Angel, and even if she knew how to contact them, they were already involved. The only prime she had any knowledge of was the Doctor, but she had no way of contacting him.

Changing her route to meander around the city, she stopped several times to scan the sky above but none of the lessers were flying overhead and she'd never before seen a costumed prime walking among the regular denizens of the city, except for the Doctor, if that silly mask could be counted as a costume. WIth no other ideas forthcoming, she began considering how she might entice someone to mug her on the hopes of attracting a hero.

Grumbling under her breath in frustration, a desperate thought came to her and, stopping dead in the middle of the pavement, she cupped her hands around her mouth and, turning in place to call in all directions, screamed out, "Doctor! Doctor! This is Donna! I need you! Doctor!" startling everyone nearby. Passersby stared at the crazy woman and she sneered back at them, "Mind your own flippin' beeswax!" _There, Ears_ , she thought, _that should get you if you're within a mile_.

A woman strode up with a concerned look. "I'm a doctor. Are you all right? What do you need?"

Realising what people must have thought she was doing, Donna smiled gratefully. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm calling for a specific Doctor. If he's around, he'll have heard me."

Frowning in confusion, the woman glanced up and down the street though she had no idea who she was looking for, then asked again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, thank you," Donna replied. The woman threw one last quizzical look at her then walked on.

Moving to the side of the pavement, Donna waited for a minute, then, with a dejected and embarrassed sigh, resumed walking. The chance that the Doctor would be here, of all places in the greater London metro area, was miniscule. Thus, she nearly leapt out of her skin when she spotted a masked figure in a jacket, tie, and trousers scramble around a corner into view on the ledge of a building, one level above the street. With a huge grin, she stopped and drew in breath to yell again to get his attention, but it was obvious he was coming for her, so she waved, bouncing on her toes.

With a few well-placed leaps, the Doctor closed the distance and landed lightly in front of her. Even without seeing his face, Donna could tell by the way he looked around that he was amused at the shocked gasps and startled cries of "A prime!" usually followed by a low "Who is that?" coming from the people around them. Then he turned to her.

"Blimey, you can shout!" he teased.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she straightened proudly. "I thought you might hear me if you were anywhere nearby."

"I would have heard you if I'd been in Glasgow."

"Oi!" she snapped in mock irritation. "Can it, flea boy. What took you so long?"

"This mask is not easy to get on quickly, you know." To demonstrate, he fiddled with the strap buckle beneath his left ear.

"Oh ho!" she chortled. "So you work around here, do you?"

"I happened to be in the area," he clarified.

Donna could feel his glare through the mask, though she knew he wasn't serious, and she grinned at his evasive equivocation. "I'm sure you were."

Clasping his hands behind his back, he adopted a friendly posture, his feet wide apart. "What do you need, Donna? It sounded urgent."

"Yes. Well, no." She groaned. "I don't know." She pulled him to the side, under the awning of a shop and out of the pedestrian traffic. "I don't know what's going on, but I thought maybe you could figure it out."

"Sounds serious."

"It might be. I'm not sure." She told him, in abbreviated form, about Kathica and Crimson Angel's visit to her company with Harold Saxon to fetch the machine they had built, then her subsequent investigations with Jon into Saxon's dummy company and mayoral campaign. As she handed him her notes, she added that Saxon intended to markedly step up his campaign efforts, starting with the Sunday rally, and it seemed an interesting coincidence that he demanded the delivery of his project at the same time.

"Hm." The Doctor rubbed at his chin under the mask as he perused the papers. "I'm sure you told Lance about this. What did he say?"

"That's the thing. He said everything looked fine to him. He didn't care that the machine was delivered in breach of contract, or that Saxon's company was just a front." She suddenly realised why Lance's reaction bothered her so much: she'd thought that he'd be willing to take a stab at looking into this just because she asked. Though she had no interest in rekindling a relationship with him, the fact that she could no longer influence him was sobering.

"And your friend, the engineer…" He paused to tacitly ask his name.

"Jon?" she offered.

"Yes, Jon. What did he say the thing was?"

"Energy amplifier, but he didn't know for what." Donna peered up at the Doctor, wishing he didn't wear a mask, though for once it wasn't to find out who he was, but because she wanted to figure out what he was thinking.

"I think," he murmured after nearly a minute of silence, "I think this certainly sounds suspicious. I'm hesitant to suspect anything's wrong, since he has two reputable primes supporting him, but I can't see how this all fits together. The only thing I can think of is to be at that rally and see if he's indeed using the machine there, and then for what."

"Oh, thank you!" Donna sighed. She'd been holding her breath waiting for his decision, and let it all out in relief. "I was afraid I was just being paranoid, like my friend Jaycee. She says aliens came down and made you primes to take over the world."

He laughed and shook his head. "That could very well be true. But don't thank me yet. I doubt I'll be able to do much, especially if he's got primes working for him. They'd grind me into the pavement in a second."

Donna was horrified. "Oh, no! I don't want you to get hurt!"

"I won't," he promised. "Just get in, find out what's going on and get out. Sunday afternoon, yes?"

"That's it."

Handing her back her notes, the Doctor paused for a moment and Donna could feel him scrutinising her. "I don't want you going there, Donna. I've no idea what might happen, but whatever it is, I don't want you in the middle of it. Stay at home."

"Oh, no!" She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide with apprehension. "I'm not going anywhere near that rally. I know better than that."

"Good." He grasped her shoulder. "It will be a lot easier if I don't have to worry about you. Now, I've got to go."

"Boss yelling for you?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

The Doctor groaned. "No, certainly not. Take care of yourself, Donna Noble." And with a leap, he was gone. With a relieved smile, Donna glanced around to determine the direction to the nearest Tube station, then disappeared into the stream of pedestrians, her promised dinner date completely forgotten.


	14. Chapter 14

Donna had been sincere when she promised the Doctor that she wouldn't go to the rally, but as the weekend wore on, her curiosity got the better of her. She really wanted to find out just what that machine was meant to do, and if it was something bad, she wanted to see the Doctor take care of it, rather than just hear about it on the news. She argued with herself about it all Saturday, but finally, in the late morning on Sunday, she announced to her family that she had a sudden urge to go shopping and, stringing her handbag over her shoulder, she stepped out to catch a bus, then the Tube, to the rally. She gave herself plenty of time to find the square in which it was being held and to scope out the place before it got too crowded.

The area was more accurately described as an urban park, tucked away amongst tall buildings, with concrete walkways winding among manicured patches of trees and flowers, converging in a wide central area with a low stage on one side. The rally organizers had erected a scaffolding on the stage to support a platform for their candidate to speak from that was about five metres above the audience floor, to give him more visibility and allow him to reach a much larger crowd. A plain white tarpaulin provided a non-distracting backdrop for the afternoon's activities, and a similar one, this time with Harold Saxon's name and campaign slogan printed it on, hid the scaffolding from the audience. Tall speakers were set up at either end of the platform, their cables running up poles high above the campaign workers' heads and back down at the rear of the platform to connect to the audio equipment. A podium and microphone stood at the very center of the platform.

Having arrived quite a while before the main event, Donna found she had nothing to do but wait and observe. Much of the setup had already been done, so the idle campaign workers mingled with the gathering crowd and walked out to the streets around the park to encourage people to come in and see their candidate. A television news team arrived and as they began to set up, one of the campaign workers intercepted them. They were close enough that Donna could hear their conversation and she was astonished to hear that they weren't welcome. The worker explained that Mr. Saxon preferred to speak directly to prospective supporters and he preferred to not have his speeches televised, so whilst the reporters were welcome at the rally, they were not allowed to bring their video cameras within the park. _Odd_ , Donna thought. _I see why he might not want his message filmed, but the publicity could only help him_. The reporter told his cameraman to return to the news van and found himself a spot to watch the rally and take notes.

Except for that one incident, Donna found that the workers were pleasant and accommodating, eager to present their candidate in the best light. She was entertaining the notion of going to talk to one of them, to learn more about this mysterious Harold Saxon, when a voice sounded beside her.

"I thought you knew better than this."

The warm, resonant voice was unmistakeable. She turned to find the Doctor standing next to her, his head shrouded by the hood of a charcoal gray sweatshirt. She could barely make out the mask he was wearing under it.

"Oh, that's not suspicious-looking at all," she drawled.

"If you weren't here, I wouldn't have to wear this," he shot back with a humourous reprimand in his tone.

Though Donna knew that he was right, that he'd be able to mingle with the crowd bare-faced without fear of discovery if she hadn't been here, a different thought came to mind. "You expected me to come here! That's why you have that awful sweatshirt with you in the first place." She crossed her arms, smirking at him with triumph.

"Guilty as charged. I knew you wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Yeah," she acquiesced. "So, what do we do?"

"We wait and watch." Stretching to his full height, he craned his neck to peer at the stage. "Do you know what this machine of yours looks like?"

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "No. Jon showed me the designs, but I can't tell a thing from that. And he said it's part of a bigger system, so who knows what it'll end up as."

"Hmm. Then we really have no choice but hope that Saxon uses the thing right in front of us." He reached in his pocket and pulled out his mobile. "Best I make myself scarce. What's your number?"

"Oi! Getting a bit fresh after only one date?" she teased, then told him. He fiddled with his phone a bit, then Donna's rang in her handbag. As he connected his mobile to a wire poking out from under the hem of his jumper, she pulled hers out then grinned at him as she answered, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Now I've got your number. You know I'm a secretary, right? I could trace you blindfolded."

"Burner phone," he replied with a smirk, wiggling the cheap device at her before dropping it in his pocket. He adjusted what was obviously an earpiece hidden under his hood, then nodded. "Seems to work. I'm off." And he disappeared into the crowd, slinking off with his hands jammed in his pockets.

As they waited for the rally to start, the park filled with people, most of them non-supporters curious about this minor candidate, judging by the conversations Donna could hear around her. She kept up a running commentary of what she was seeing and hearing for the Doctor, though it all seemed unimportant. A few minutes before the starting time, two workers emerged from behind the backdrop carrying a small box over to one of the pieces of audio equipment on the side of the platform. One of them lifted the cover the box and held it out whilst the other removed an object from it. The Doctor's groan filled Donna's ear.

"What's wrong?" she asked, trying to scan the crowd to locate him whilst keeping an eye on what the two workers were doing.

"That… that feels like…" He mumbled indistinctly for a moment. "It's like when I… Donna, they have a piece of Blue Rain. A tiny piece, but I'm sure of it."

The worker opened the case of one of the pieces of equipment and placed the small object inside. Donna sprang up on her tiptoes to try to see the thing as she asked the Doctor, "What does it feel like?"

"It's… I can't explain. It's just weird…" He shuddered, trying to dispel his unease. "I just know it's there. Any prime will be able to feel that."

"Would it give you new powers, if you touched it?" she murmured, her voice low to prevent the people around her from overhearing.

"No, I don't think so. It doesn't feel right. Maybe it's too small. Hmm. That thing must be the amplifier. If it amplifies the effects of that rock -"

Donna chanced a guess. "It would give people powers?"

The Doctor was silent for a moment, obviously considering the possibility. "I don't know. My gut says no, but I've no idea where these powers really come from. You think he wants to give people powers in return for their votes?"

"Well, what else could he do with that thing?" she hissed into the mobile. "Seems a risky business, though, giving out random powers. From what you've said, people would be just as likely to hate him for it as to thank him."

The Doctor sighed. "We could throw out guesses all day. Nothing we can do, really, but see what happens."

"Might be too late by then."

"If you've a better suggestion, I'm all ears."

"Oh, ha ha. You're a riot," she drawled. But Donna didn't have anything at all to suggest, and they fell silent. A few minutes later, a stately young dark-skinned woman in stylish business suit stepped up to the podium.

"Hello," she murmured into the microphone, hesitant eyes peering up at the crowd. As the general noise quieted down, she seemed to take some confidence from the audience's attention. "Yes, thank you. Thank you all for taking time out of your Sunday afternoon to come here and hear our message. My name is Letitia Jones. I am the manager of the Saxon mayoral campaign, and I would like to welcome you all to our little get-together here. Now, I know that this rally may seem a bit odd to you. We've no music, no celebrity endorsements, no entertainment, and that's by Mr. Saxon's wishes. He doesn't want a rally. What he wants is a conversation with you. He'd like to meet you, talk with you, find out what your concerns are, and let you know exactly what you'll be getting when you vote for him."

She paused for a moment to let the audience react to Saxon's novel ideas, watching people turn to their neighbours with questioning frowns. "To that end, he will come out in a moment and say a few words, and then he invites you to come and talk to us. All of the staff will be available, but he especially wants to meet each and every one of you, as many as he can in the few hours we have here. So," she announced, "without any further delay, here is your independent candidate for Mayor of London, Mr. Harold Saxon."

Raising her hands to lead the applause, she stepped back from the podium as Harold Saxon emerged from backstage. He bowed a thank-you to her then stepped to the front of the platform as she retreated behind the backdrop.

From his spot kneeling inside a window on the first floor of one of the buildings surrounding the park, the Doctor leaned forward to get a better look, studying Saxon closely with a pair of tiny binoculars, the lenses of his mask up and out of the way. The man was unassuming, his plain black suit hanging a little loosely on his slender frame and his short, dark hair neat but common, indicating he'd combed it himself rather than had his PR wing style it for his public appearance. Waving enthusiastically at the crowd, he beamed a bright, friendly smile but his eyes were alert and shrewd, watching the polite, hesitant acknowledgements he received from all sections of the audience. He bowed a couple of times, then, as he slipped behind the podium and adjusted the microphone for his speech, the Doctor noticed that the workers by the machine removed a panel from its front, revealing what looked like a camera lens pointed at Saxon's back, then fiddled with something he couldn't see on the other side of the device. Settling back on his heels, the Doctor pulled off the sweatshirt and focused on Saxon.

"Citizens of London," Saxon began, "thank you for taking the time out of your busy lives to let me bend your ears. I know that many of you, probably most of you, had never heard of me before the last couple of weeks, but I believe you'll find in me a candidate for the mayor of London that you can truly trust with the future of our great city. Just let me tell you about myself and what I stand for. But first, I want to introduce to you a very special person, my rock, my beacon, the woman who is my strength and my light. My fiancée, soon to be my wife, Lucy Springer."

As Saxon stepped back from the podium and thrust a welcoming hand toward the opening in the backdrop from which he had issued only a few minutes earlier, a beautiful blonde woman in a plain conservative dress strode out from behind the tarp. She took his outstretched hand and curtsied demurely to the politely clapping audience before taking her place behind her partner as he returned to the microphone.

"When I think about what I want for London," he began, "I think about her, my Lucy. What would she want? What would her ideal city, her ideal living space and life, look like? She'd want London to lead the world in economics, style of living, and human rights. She'd want the people of the city fed and housed and gainfully employed, and their children growing strong and educated well. She'd want safe streets and exceptional medical care. That's what she wants. That's what you want. And that's what I want."

Taking the microphone off the stand, Saxon stepped to the front of the stage to get closer to his audience, walking back and forth along the edge. The Doctor noticed, however, that he stayed at the front center as much as he could, right where the machine was pointing. "I will bring London back to international prominence and unify this city to foster cooperation between business and government. I will clean up the streets and eliminate the housing and transportation problems. These are the things you've wanted now for years, that my opponents have discussed only at election time, and yet these issues disappear from view as soon as the ballots are counted, as soon as my opponents have been assured of securing their offices for four years. If these issues are important to you, then you want to elect me as the next mayor of London."

The Doctor jerked back, startled by the raucous applause that answered that round of rhetoric. The crowd, which had been curious and hesitant about this new candidate, had turned its opinion around in the space of one minute's worth of words, and Saxon was standing there, soaking in the support and grinning, waving at his new supporters. Sputtering with incredulity, the Doctor laughed into his headset, "What kind of rubbish was that? He just made a bunch of grand promises without a word of his policies or how he's going to do any of it. That's bollocks, that is."

"I thought he was brilliant," came Donna's reply. The Doctor's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Definitely the kind of mayor London needs."

Floored by Donna's opinion, the Doctor forgot about tact. "What are you talking about? You're not thinking of voting for him, are you?"

"Certainly. He's the candidate I've been looking for."

"What about his strange energy machine and shady environmental company?" he shot back at her.

"Oh, sure, those need to be taken care of, but that doesn't mean he won't make a magnificent mayor."

Leaning on the windowsill, the Doctor rubbed at his jaw under the veil of his mask, his mind whirling. _How did Saxon manage to turn everyone, including Donna, to his side?_ Saxon had started talking again, and the Doctor listened to him carefully. Psychology wasn't his strong suit, but he had to figure out why he was so persuasive.

"...years of Tory this and Labour that. It's time for something different. It's time for someone who won't simply toe the party line, who will listen to you and do what's right. That's who I am. You _want_ me to represent you. You _want_ me to lead London the way it was meant to be run."

Whilst the crowd cheered, the Doctor stuck his tongue out in distaste at the nonsense that man was spewing, accidentally licking the inside of his mask. As he wiped at his mouth, he pondered the odd emphasis Saxon had put on the word "want", both times, and suddenly it hit him: each time he'd made those statements, he'd caught someone's eye and held it, almost as if he was pushing the thought directly into their mind.

"Ohhh!" he breathed, sitting back on his heels, limp with reluctant revelation. _He's a prime_.

"What?" Donna's voice crackled from the cheap speaker.

"Hold on, hold on. I haven't worked it out yet." The Doctor went through it step-by-step. _He's a prime. He's a mind controller. He's convincing people to vote for him, but… but… but he doesn't have much reach. Yes. That's it. That's why he campaigns in small groups or door-to-door. And… and that's what the machine's for!_ Jumping up, he punched the air, spinning across the room. _It's amplifying his power, so he can reach more people at once. It doesn't work over television, and he doesn't want the media here because without his power backing him up, it'll be obvious his campaign is nonsense!_

He sucked in a breath to tell Donna, but stopped as he realised he didn't have it all. _But why isn't he affecting me? I should be shouting his praises, too._ He tapped a finger against the front of his mask. _Because I'm a prime and he can't affect primes. No! That's not it. He must have used his power to convince Kathica and Crimson Angel to help him get the machine. They'd never have done it otherwise. So why not me?_ He hopped over to the window and looked down over the crowd. Most were still listening, but there were a few wandering off, no longer interested in what the man had to say…

 _Because they realise he's saying nothing. Because -"_

"Donna!" he barked into the mobile.

"What? What do you want? I'm listening to Saxon."

"I know!" He paced around the room, rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, Donna. You have to listen to me. Saxon is manipulating you. He's making you want to vote for him."

"Well, duh! He's brilliant."

"No, he's not. Listen to me." Trying his hardest not to yell, afraid of alienating her completely, he forced himself to speak evenly and plainly. "He's a prime, and his power is to make you want to do what he wants."

"What are you talking about? You mean voting for him? That's mental. I chose him myself."

The Doctor was almost jumping around the room in frustration, amazed at the strength of Saxon's coercion. "No, you didn't! You were undecided, remember? You were still researching the candidates."

"What? How do you know that?"

The Doctor slapped his hand over his eyes, which only served to smudge his lenses with his thumb. _Sloppy!_ he berated himself. "You told me on Friday, remember? When you called for me in the street?"

"Really? I don't remember talking to you about -"

"Donna, Donna!" he cut her off. "That's not important. Just listen to me. Why would you suddenly make a firm decision after listening to him for two minutes? You have to believe me: _he changed your mind_."

"Oh, that's bollocks. Besides, if he's a mind controller, why aren't you singing his praises? Obviously you're not supporting him."

"That's because I had already decided who I'm voting for, a long time ago. You see?" The Doctor couldn't help but admire Saxon's power. It was so subtle, so elegant. "He can't outright change your mind. He can only nudge it a little. That's what his power is, but it's plenty enough to sway this election, because most people haven't made their choice yet or aren't completely devoted to it."

"That's bollocks," Donna repeated, but this time, she was clearly flustered and uncertain.

"That's it, Donna, fight him," he urged. "You can do it. Throw off his control. Try to concentrate on the fact that he's lying to you. Leave the crowd so you don't listen to him and maybe that'll help clear your mind."

"But, but I want him to be mayor." Her voice was tiny.

"Keep fighting, Donna. You've got to keep fighting." He glanced out of the window, at Saxon still pandering to his crowd. "But I've got to go. He's using that machine to amplify his powers to influence more people, so I've got to destroy it. I'm going to take a stab at getting up there and pushing it off the platform. So keep fighting him. It'll all be over soon." He hoped he sounded convincing.

"Good luck," she wished him quietly, though she didn't sound very sincere.

Pulling his earpiece out, he stuffed the device and the binoculars into his pocket and snapped the lenses of his mask back over his eyes, then turned to dash out of the room and up the stairs. Going straight out of the window to leap to the ground, cross the square, and scale the scaffolding would have been too obvious and he needed as much surprise as he could get, as he suspected he'd have only one shot at the machine. The best way would be to attack from above.

The second floor gave him the height he needed, and, coming up to the window above the one he'd watched the speech at, he paused to assess the situation. Saxon was still speaking, with his fiancée standing behind him. The two campaign workers were standing at the back of the platform, watching their candidate. They were far enough away from the machine that the Doctor decided that if he could get in there fast enough, they wouldn't have time to react and stop him.

"Here goes nothing," he mumbled to himself. Throwing open the window, he took a moment to plot his path, then, sitting on the sill and swinging his legs over, he took a deep breath and launched himself at the nearby tree.


	15. Chapter 15

If he'd hoped to make a graceful, acrobatic dash for the platform, the Doctor was sorely disappointed the moment he'd grabbed the branch he'd aimed for. Not thick enough to withstand the sudden torque of over six feet of plummeting man, the bough bent far more than he had expected and he barely managed to catch a nearby branch to slow his descent, thankful that his mask blocked the leaves and twigs from whipping his face. On the upswing, he let go and somersaulted into the next tree - and that was rather impressive, judging from the gasps from the crowd below, though his gangly limbs stuck out everywhere like a hamster in freefall. Landing on a thick, sturdy branch, he leapt for the platform, landing not two metres away from his target.

"Doctor!" came the unmistakable scream from the audience, but he already knew what Donna was warning him about: with his superhuman hearing, he'd sensed the figure emerging from backstage, behind his left shoulder- a female with one hand outstretched, palm toward him. He had no time to do anything else: he tumbled off to his right, a bolt of red energy flashing silently through the space he'd just been in.

"Oh, ho!" thundered Saxon's amused voice over the speaker. "I've got a detractor! I must be making quite a name for myself."

The Doctor had only a moment to assess the machine's position and Crimson Angel's intentions before tensing for another dodge. He could tell from the position of her hand that she was aiming to herd him away from the machine, so he ducked and rolled toward it. The searing heat along his back told him just how close he'd come to being hit.

"I think this man is trying to divest me of my audio equipment, so that I can't speak with you all." Saxon's tone was sickeningly conversational. "However, my supporters want me to speak out, to lead our fair city. I think the primes among them want to stop this man's petty vandalism."

"Oh, he's mine!" roared another voice, and a familiar figure clad in silver-grey and red rose from behind the backdrop, the statuesque epitome of power and strength. "Leave him to me, Angel." Clearly unsure of the wisdom of this, the woman in the deep red catsuit stepped back, her hands twitching at her sides.

"Falcon," the Doctor groaned in his throat. "Could this possibly get worse?" Hopping to his feet, he crouched, ready to spring at the moment Silver Falcon made his move. "Falcon!" he called up to his opponent. "Come on. You don't want to do this. Let's work this out."

"Nothing to work out," came the reply. "I told you I'd make you pay."

"That wasn't my fault!" the Doctor insisted, leaping away easily as Silver Falcon dove at him. Scurrying up one of the cable suspension poles, he licked his lip as he gazed down at his adversary and realised how this was going to go.

"Ah, you two have a history, it seems." Saxon's smile was as oily as his voice. "Who is this little prime, Silver Falcon?"

"She said." Falcon jerked his chin toward the crowd where Donna was standing. "She called him the Doctor." He bulled his way toward the Doctor and made a grab which caught thin air as the Doctor swung around the pole and hopped to the ground.

Saxon ignored the tussle, his eyes on the woman with the long coppery hair. "And who is this vision of beauty? It seems that she's part of your history, too."

The Doctor's heart fell as Donna stepped forward and called out, "Donna. Donna Noble." Her face shone with her eagerness to be recognised by the mayoral candidate. _She didn't manage to break his spell_ , he moaned to himself as he easily dodged another flying attack from Silver Falcon.

"Charmed," gushed Saxon as he bowed to her.

"Falcon!" The Doctor called over him. If he could get the man to just leave him alone for ten seconds, he could accomplish his goal. "Come on, let's stop this. This is futile. I can't beat you, but you can't catch me." He could see Falcon's acknowledgement of the truth in his barely suppressed fury. He might be strong and nigh invulnerable, but Silver Falcon, unlike his namesake, was sluggish, at least compared to most primes, and, being used to powering his way through most situations with the might of his punches, he'd never learned not to telegraph his moves. The Doctor knew what Falcon was going to do almost before the hero did himself.

"I can do this all day," growled the man in silver, lunging for the Doctor, who yet again leapt out of the way.

"So can I, so it'll just come down to whose powers weaken first, and I think we both know who that will be." At that jibe, Lance roared and lunged again, the Doctor easily dodging the attack. "Hey, did you notice how absolutely gorgeous Donna is looking today? That blouse really sets off her figure." Stumbling for a moment, Falcon refocused himself and and charged at the Doctor, who rolled out of the way of the attack and sprang to his feet. "And I'm sure you've been enjoying working with Crimson Angel," he called as he leapt away. "Now there's a woman! All that red spandex clinging tightly to all the right places -"

Whilst he was in mid-jump, red energy filaments streamed from Crimson Angel's fingers, twining around the Doctor, forcing his arms and legs down straight, and he crashed to the ground, grunting at the impact. Struggling to his feet, he glanced at Angel, who glared back at him as she concentrated on her strings. Realising that it was taking all of her power to keep his arms and legs restricted, he strained against his bonds to try to break out, but in a moment, Silver Falcon tackled him, knocking the wind out of him and pinning him to the ground.

In less than a minute, Falcon had hauled the Doctor as he kicked and squirmed to the bottom of the platform, pulled down the Saxon campaign tarpaulin, and held him against the scaffolding so that Crimson Angel could lash him to the metal support with her energy ropes, his arms bound behind his back. Falcon then punched the Doctor in the stomach for good measure and paced off a few metres, growling at Angel that he hadn't needed the help. As the Doctor reeled and coughed, Saxon stood on the platform directly above his captive to address the crowd again. Silver Falcon surveyed the crowd, his arms crossed over his strong chest as he radiated power and pride, whilst Angel stood with her hands splayed above her head, the glimmering red cords attached to each finger circling the Doctor, holding him fast.

"Quite a bit of excitement, wouldn't you say?" Saxon obviously excelled at friendly, empty chatter. "But don't let that put you off. There will always be dissenters and detractors. It doesn't mean we shouldn't move forward with our hard work, with our vision for the future. We'll show the doubters like this Doctor a better world. And you see, the heroes believe in that better world, too. They've joined me and my cause. You want to, too. The election is not far off. Vote Saxon!"

The Doctor's eyes were on one person in the crowd, and when she joined the cheering, he hung his head.

After a full minute of ovation, Saxon held his hands up to ask for quiet, and it took fifteen more seconds for the noise to die down enough for him to speak. "I want to build up a strong, modern, cosmopolitan London, and you want to help me do it by making me mayor, but we still have a long way to go and lots of hard to work to do. The first thing we need to do is win this election, and you can help. Spread the word. Talk to your friends and family. Tell them my message. If they have any doubts, tell them to come to me. My door is always open, and will be always open when I'm your mayor. From now until election day, I am speaking publicly every day, all across our great city, so spread the word. We can do this! We can turn this system around and -"

Saxon broke off as the platform under his feet shuddered. He glanced around uncertainly, at his fiancée and his campaign workers with him on the stage, but they were as confused as he was. Shrugging, he turned back to the microphone when the stage wobbled again, this time much harder. He paused to let it subside, but it continued to shake. "Earthquake?" he squeaked.

"No," the Doctor murmured, softly but clearly. "Resonance." The scaffolding pole behind him, to which Crimson Angel had him bound and around which his hands were clasped, was flexing visibly, its movements spreading to the rest of the structure. As the front of the platform began coming apart, the audience scattered with panicked screams and Saxon's primes flew up to grab the humans on the stage, Angel snagging the mayoral candidate while Falcon caught Lucy and the two campaign workers before they could fall. Ms. Jones, the campaign manager, and three other people who hadn't yet come out onto the platform, fled down the backstage ramp. Freed when Crimson Angel had let her ropes dissipate, the Doctor called to Donna, who was frozen, watching with her hands over her mouth. "Donna! Run, now!" However, he stayed in place, feeding the acoustic resonance until the pole he was holding buckled and the front of the platform finally collapsed, the electrical equipment crashing to the ground. With a pleased smirk, he bounded toward the smashed machines to verify that the amplifier device had been destroyed.

"Stop him!" ordered Saxon, but neither of the primes were in a position to do anything, with their hands full with the people they'd rescued from the collapsing platform. Saxon twisted in Angel's hands toward Falcon. "Lucy!" he cried.

Clinging to Silver Falcon's back, Saxon's fiancée lifted a leisurely palm, pointing at a spot in front of the sprinting Doctor and, diving on instinct, he tumbled beneath an inky black patch of darkness that appeared in his path. As quickly as it appeared, it blinked out of existence with a loud _fwop!_ Hopping up, he leapt forward and skidded to a stop as another blossomed between him and the broken machinery. Every nerve screeching _Danger!_ the Doctor backed away from it as with another _fwop_ , it disappeared. He'd no idea what it was, but it felt just like that tiny piece of Blue Rain that had pierced his senses earlier, except rawer, more primal.

"Yes," Saxon hissed as Crimson Angel lowered him to the ground. "You know better than to get close to that. Let me show you what it can do. Lucy?" he called to the woman as she hopped down to the ground. She pointed at one of the twisted metal pipes littering the area in which the scaffolding formerly stood and a black patch enveloped it a few centimetres of it then disappeared - _fwop!_ \- leaving a gap between two sheared ends of metal. One of the pieces, no longer part of the larger piece with nothing to hold it up, clanged to the ground.

"A portal," the Doctor breathed, taking another involuntary step back.

"Yes." Saxon's smile was predatory. "Can you imagine what would happen if she placed one inside of you? I think you can. So I advise against moving from that spot." The two campaign workers scampered off as Silver Falcon let them down, then the prime strode up to stand behind Saxon. The candidate held his hands up to signal his followers to stand down.

"Your plan isn't going to work, Saxon!" the Doctor snarled, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Such hostility! What have I done to engender your anger?" he asked with hurt innocence.

"I understand what you are, what you can do, and what you're doing here, with this election. I'm not going to let you succeed." Keeping his eyes fixed on Saxon, the Doctor listened to the situation in the square, noting that a good portion of the crowd had disappeared; in the two years since people had started to develop powers, most normal humans had learned that sticking around to watch a fight between primes was dangerous and too often fatal. Donna, however, was still there watching, though whether she was watching himself or Saxon, he couldn't tell.

"Oh? And what is it you think I'm doing?" Saxon was an expert at pretended surprise.

The Doctor knew that Saxon was simply playing with him, using him to paint himself as the public servant with insane enemies, but he wanted to keep his attention on himself; better that than coercing more unsuspecting citizens. And with enough time, he'd think of something to get himself out of this situation. Maybe. "I know you're a prime and that your power is to make people do things, to make them change their minds and want what you want. You're using it to force them to elect you as mayor."

"Ah. I see." Saxon glanced at his nearby supporters with a look that encouraged them to tolerate the rantings of this madman just a little bit longer. "That's quite a tale, and I can assure you It's all fiction, but if I were doing something like that, that's wrong, is it?"

"You know it is," the Doctor snarled through clenched teeth.

"Really? Is there a law against this…" Saxon waved his hand, trying to come up with the right phrase. "...this changing of people's minds?"

The Doctor swallowed before replying. "An act doesn't need to be illegal to be wrong."

Saxon continued to play the crowd. "But how exactly is it wrong? I am giving people what they want."

"No, you're making people want what you're giving them. Big difference." As the Doctor spoke, he cringed inwardly. Saxon was a highly skilled spin doctor.

"Is there? Either way, they're getting what they want and they'll be happy." Saxon stepped forward to emphasise his point. "How is that wrong? How is that different from changing their minds through persuasion and rhetoric?"

"It's wrong because you're forcing them to think that way." He tried to force the direction of the debate, away from ethics and toward action. "I'm not going to let that happen. I'm going to stop you."

"And that gives you the right to make that decision, that I must be stopped? All of these people around you want me as their mayor, to lead London into a glorious new age." Saxon turned to the people arrayed in the audience. "Don't you now? You want that. You want me as your new mayor, and maybe in the future, your Prime Minister. Show this man that that's what you want!" As Saxon stepped back toward the wreck of the platform with a theatrical whirl, the roar from the thinned crowd was impressive, but nothing stabbed the Doctor in the heart more than seeing Donna cheering along with them.

Saxon raised both hands to call for silence. "How can you argue against the will of the people? This is democracy in action."

"This is simply your will imposed upon others. Before the Blue Rain, you were nobody, and not single person here would know your name without it." The Doctor indicated the crowd with a wave of his hand. "This is not democracy. This is enslavement. All you're doing is extending your influence, to bring the city under your thumb. But I will stop you. That is all I want, and you can't change that."

Saxon shook his head with a quiet laugh. "Oh, no. No, no, no. That's not what you want. You see, I've studied what people want. My area of expertise, you might say. And at their core, nobody wants things that don't benefit themselves. Not a single person, ever, and certainly not you. Stopping me is not what you want. That's not what you really want. What you really want…" With a sly smile, he announced, "I know what you want."

Saxon turned and shot a winning smile at Donna. "Ms. Noble, won't you come up here and join me? I know you would love to come up here and endorse your chosen mayoral candidate, wouldn't you?"

Donna smothered her astonishment with a hand over her mouth. She'd never been asked to publicly support such a famous and powerful person. _Of course, I'd love to do that!_ Throwing a proud but embarrassed grin at the Doctor, she scrunched her shoulders like a schoolgirl and, pushing through the crowd, trotted to the destroyed platform's edge amidst cheers of encouragement. She walked right up to Saxon, who threw a friendly arm around her.

"Don't you dare hurt her!" the Doctor cried.

Saxon stared back at him, gaping at him in exaggerated disbelief. "You're such a clever man, and yet you really don't understand, do you?" Turning to Donna, he squeezed her and asked, "You believe in me, don't you? Don't you think I'll make a wonderful mayor? Tell the truth: you want me to lead the city, don't you?"

"Absolutely!" she beamed. The Doctor managed to squeeze his eyes shut and turn away in time to avoid seeing her lean into Saxon and peck him on the cheek, but sounds of the movement and Donna's excitement filled his ears.

"Do you see?" With a complacent smile, Saxon kept his arm around her, letting it drop to her waist. "She supports me. She believes in me. I wouldn't hurt her. I don't hurt my supporters." Fixing his stare on the Doctor, Saxon turned grim, sneering, "I only hurt those who oppose me."

"Let her go!" cried the Doctor. "Do what you want with me, just leave her out of it."

"Oh, I think she'll walk away of her accord." He turned to Donna again. "This Doctor here, you know who he is, don't you? Your good friend. I'm sure he's trusted you with his identity, hasn't he?"

As the Doctor jerked back at the veiled threat, Donna frowned. It was the one point of contention between them, the one thing she'd been dying to know, but she didn't truly _need_ to know. She trusted the Doctor and she would back him up every time. "Er, no, I don't know who he is. Doesn't matter, though. I'd trust him to the ends of the earth."

Saxon stared at her with theatrical surprise. "Would you, really? After he's deceived you all this time? Fed you some story about needing to keep his prime life separate from his real life, I'm sure, or maybe even that he doesn't want the fame. But if he's hiding who he is, what else is he hiding?"

"He's not hiding anything! He's a good bloke!" Donna protested, but the Doctor could see a spark of doubt in her eyes as she gazed at him and his heart sank deep into his stomach.

"Oh, but he _is_ hiding. That's what masks are for. Has he been lying to you all this time? Do you really know him at all? Or..." he drawled as he leaned in close and murmured in her ear. "Shouldn't he have simply trusted you, that you'd protect his secret?"

"Stop. Please stop," the Doctor called weakly.

"No," stated Donna with as much firmness as she could muster. "He has his reasons and I respect that."

"Why? He obviously doesn't respect you in return." The corner of Saxon's mouth quirked when he saw Donna's shoulders fall slightly as she stared at the man standing in front of them. Her resolve had weakened _just_ enough. Slipping an arm around her waist to guide her forward another step, he grinned at her like a game-show host. "Well, Ms. Noble, let me reward you for being such a staunch supporter of the Saxon mayoral campaign." He snapped his fingers to summon his fiancée forward. "Lucy? Break his mask."

"No!" cried the Doctor as the woman shot her open palms out at him five times in rapid succession. Five black voids about the size of marbles appeared, one right between the lenses of the Doctor's mask and four along the top edge of the hanging mesh veil. As the _fwop_ s of the collapsing mini-portals popped around him, the Doctor grabbed desperately to hold the mask in place, but he was too late: the tension of the skullcap ripped the broken pieces from his face, leaving it free and clear for everyone to see. But everyone didn't matter to him, just the woman in Saxon's arms, and as his hands fell to his sides, he stared at her like it was the last time he would ever see her again.

"Jon?" Donna murmured, her voice weak. "It's you? You're the Doctor?" Behind her, Silver Falcon burst into amazed laughter, stumbling away to stifle it.

"Ah!" cried Saxon triumphantly. "So you _do_ know each other!"

Ignoring him, Donna threw off his arm and strode up to her friend. "Why didn't you tell me, you giant prawn? All this time, you were right there and I never knew."

His secret out, Jon didn't bother to modulate his voice, speaking in his hesitant tenor rather than the Doctor's smooth baritone. "Because… because… I couldn't. I just couldn't." Unhooking the strap of his mask from under his chin, he pulled off the tattered remnants and toyed with them, his head bowed.

"What do you mean, you couldn't? Why not?" she demanded, her fists clenched at her sides.

He couldn't look at her. "Donna, Donna, I, I, I… I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry."

Donna just stared agape.

"Well…" Saxon came up behind her and patted her consolingly on the shoulder. "Wasn't that just a touching reunion? So, Donna, how do you feel about him now?" Jon's head whipped up and he met Donna's shattered gaze. He clenched the mask in his fist as he trembled. "Look at him. He deceived you all this time -"

"I didn't..." Jon mumbled. "I didn't mean to."

"Shush now. We're talking," Saxon chided him gently. "You see now, Donna, don't you? He hid behind a mask, made you think he was someone else, made you think he was a hero, when all the time he was this quaking, pathetic excuse for a man. How could you love someone like that? How could anyone love someone like that? You don't want to love him. You don't even want to like him, do you?" He leaned close to her and whispered slowly and clearly. " _You want to hate him_."

Donna's eyes, which were shimmering with tears, hardened. Straightening, she held her head high as she spun on her heel and slowly strode back to stand next to Lucy, but when she turned back to face the audience, her bright smile was all for the man running for mayor of London. "Mr. Saxon," she announced, "you have a campaign to run, for the benefit of our great city." She raised her voice. "Come on! Let's hear it for Harold Saxon!" she cried as she raised her hands high to lead the applause. As the crowd roared, she looked out over them, and her eyes slipped over Jon as if the spot he was standing in was empty. With all hope gone, Jon closed his eyes and tried to fight the despair that was wringing his heart.

Saxon waved at his loyal supporters, beaming with pride, but as soon as the cheering died down, he favoured Jon with a friendly smile and spoke. "You see, Jon, I only hurt those who oppose me."

"I'll stop you. I swear I will." Jon hissed. "I no longer have anything to lose."

"You go on." He waved a hand to indicate Donna. "Because I can do this again, if you like. Or my loyal followers will step up for me. Some of them would like another crack at you." He leaned forward to murmur softly to Jon. "Join me. Come on. Wouldn't it just be so much easier? Because I am inevitable. Slowly but surely, I will bring this city, then this country, then this world to its knees, because eventually everyone will want me to lead this world. And those who don't? Well, they just won't be relevant anymore."

At Jon's adamant silence, Saxon shrugged with the air of a man who has tried everything to be reasonable. "Suit yourself. I've an election to win." He stepped back and beckoned Donna forward. "Please come over here, Ms. Noble, my new campaign advisor and spokesperson. Won't you tell all of us gathered here today what you're hoping for, for the future of London?"

"Of course!" Clearing her throat, she hooked arms with her candidate and presented him to the crowd. "When I think about the future of this city, I want it to be great and prosperous. I mean, I'd like it to be glamourous, too, and I hope _Eastenders_ will never end, but first, I'm seeing all races and creeds living together, and all of their children fed and educated. But that's going to take a lot of work, to pull together this fractured city. To do all that, we need a leader who will guide us with a strong vision and a firm hand, and…"

Donna turned to Saxon and, in one smooth motion, brought her hand up and blasted him in his smiling face with a visible spray of liquid. As he screamed and clawed at his eyes, she cried over him, "that leader is _not_ this man!" Snatching her arm away from him, she marched to the foot of the crowd and yelled, "Harold Saxon is a fraud. He is a prime with the power to bend your minds, to make you think you want something you don't, and he's making you think you want him to be mayor. But you really don't, you really, really don't, and you _can_ resist him. All you have to do is _think_." She pointed at her temple, her hand quivering. "Think about what you really want for this city and who best represents that. It isn't him, because he hasn't said a word about what he'll actually do as mayor and he truly hasn't a clue. He just wants the power."

She stepped forward to the edge of the crowd and beckoned them to action. "Come on, people, think! Maybe it's Johnson, or maybe it's Livingstone. Or maybe you don't know who, but you favour the Lib Dems. Or maybe whoever's running UKIP this time, 'cause who are they anyway? But you don't want Saxon, I guarantee that. Figure out who has the platform and the policies that's best for you and fix that in your mind, because if you do your research and you know who you want," and she jabbed a finger at the cringing man, "he won't be able to sway your sympathies and you'll be out of his thrall. Go!" she yelled at the crowd, who were eyeing her hesitantly. "Go on! Go home, do your homework, and stand by your candidate! Come on, shift!"

As the muttering mob started to disperse, Donna risked a glance at Jon and found him beaming at her with a mixture of relief and pride. She dangled a small canister between her thumb and index finger. "You told me to get pepper spray," she grinned. The groaning behind her attracted both of their attentions, and upon seeing Saxon attempting to climb to his feet, Jon bounded forward and tackled him.

"You… will… never… touch… Donna… again!" he snarled, punctuating each word with a punch to Saxon's face as he sat on him to keep him pinned. "You hear me?"

"Jon!" Donna shrieked. "Don't!"

Jon stopped, shaking with anger, and Saxon, though his eyes were clamped shut and streaming with tears due to the chemical in them, grinned defiantly at him. "Oh, you can't stop me." Then he laughed, mocking the infuriated unmasked prime. "I'll come back. It might take me a while, but I am inevitable."

With a quick, rough hand, Jon jammed Saxon's jaw up, holding it so that the man couldn't speak anymore. "You are not inevitable," he hissed in his ear. "You are weak and warped, and this is the end of the line for you. Did you know, I can shatter your skull, just like this, just by touching you? Here, I'll show you."

"Jon."

Donna caught his attention with the quiet murmur of his name, and he turned to glare at her, the anger burning in his eyes.

"You can stop now."

Jon's expression softened, the fury replaced by shock, and he stared down at his hand on Saxon's jaw like it had suddenly turned into the claw of some monster. Shame and uncertainty flooded his throat, threatening to choke him and, swallowing it down, he pulled the remnants of his mask out of his pocket and stuffed them into the man's mouth then wound the chin strap around his head, securing it tightly behind his ear.. Hopping off him, he pulled him none too gently to his feet and pinned his arms behind him. "Find me some handcuffs or cables to bind him," he called to the person standing nearest to Donna.

Stunned by her fiancé standing gagged and immobilised in front her, Lucy stared at Jon wide-eyed, then began to back away. "Stay away from me! You, you monster! Let him go!"

"Lucy…" Donna began, stepping forward to attempt to calm her, but Lucy raised both hands, palms pointed at Donna and Jon. Donna froze, raising both hands in front of her in a gesture of surrender. Saxon smirked through his gag.

"Let him go!" Lucy shrieked. "I can kill you both, you know. One portal each, right in the center of the brain. I can put these wherever I want, but if I get it wrong, oopsie-daisy! Let's try again, shall we?" She eyed Jon, a deranged sneer twisting her face. Saxon nodded his encouragement.

"No, Lucy." Donna's low voice was calm and rational. "You're not angry at us. You're angry at him -" and she jerked her head at Saxon, "- for playing with your head. You don't know what you're feeling and you're hurting. We know that and we're trying to help you. Please, let us help."

Lucy's eyes slid from Jon to Saxon and, without lowering her threatening hands, she slowly stepped to her fiancé. Leaning in close to touch foreheads, she whispered, "I love you, Harry," then screamed, "I hope you die!" and slugged him in the stomach.

"Oog!" Saxon doubled over and Jon barely managed to keep him on his feet.

"Lucy!" cried Donna.

A hateful scowl on her face, Lucy backed away and looked up at the cables hanging from the listing poles above and raised her hands. With twin _fwop!_ s, a length of cable fell at Jon's feet.

"Thank you, Lucy." Snagging it, he bound Saxon's hands together tight behind his back.

Lucy stood staring at Saxon, her eyes burning with loathing. "You ought to know," she mumbled, "that machine. You know what it is. It's not for him. It's for me. He wanted me to open bigger portals, so he could go through them." As Jon frowned at her, she turned to him and held his gaze. "I know you can feel the rock, that tiny bit of Blue Rain we have, trying to change you again. He wanted to go to the source, to get more power and more abilities. That's all he wants. To rule the world." She stepped around Saxon to lean in close to the man holding him prisoner. "You've got to destroy it all. I'm sure he's not the only person who's had this idea." Lucy leaned in close and, pulling Jon roughly to her, kissed him full on the lips. Then, leaving him stunned, she walked off without another word, losing herself in the dispersing crowd.


	16. Chapter 16

Once Harold Saxon was silenced and tethered to a sturdy piece of the remnants of the scaffolding, Jon pulled the neck of his jumper up over his nose and bounded over to the smashed machine. Rooting through the pieces, he began pocketing the most important components, to prevent someone from reverse-engineering the device from the wreckage. When he uncovered the tiny piece of Blue Rain, his eyes crinkled in distaste. He weighed the pebble, dark and shiny like glowing lapis, in his hand, then stuffed it in a pocket as he hopped up.

Dashing up behind him, Donna had stayed back to let him work, watching him with a proud smile and shining eyes, but her smile vanished as soon as he turned to face her. His eyes dark and miserable, he held her gaze with regret and an unspoken apology, then dashed off, out of the square and up the side of the nearest building. She called after him, "Jon! Jon! Come back! Please!" but he disappeared around a corner, out of sight.

As the other two primes trotted up to Donna, Crimson Angel offered, "Do you want me to go after him? I can bring him back."

"No," Donna replied without thinking. _Why, Jon? Now that the secret's out, why are you still running?_ Shaking her head to dispel those thoughts and pay attention to the here and now, she repeated, "No. Thank you, but no." Catching sight of Silver Falcon beside Angel, she jabbed a finger at him. "Oh, you! Don't you dare! Don't you dare -"

Silver Falcon was quick to assure her. "No, Donna, I would never. It's been a month now and he hasn't outed me; it's only fair that I protect him. Besides," and he glanced at the masked woman beside him, "we have this unspoken rule: private lives stay private. It's good for us all."

"So, you all know each other?" Angel inquired.

"Yeah." Falcon snorted. "As Saxon said, we have a history." It was his turn to wag a finger at Donna. "A history I'm willing to let go. You obviously had no idea he was the Doctor. I don't know what there is between you two, but whatever it is, I think you've got your work cut out for you." Donna knew that beneath that mask, Lance was gazing at her with sympathy and concern.

"Yeah, I do," she mumbled.

"The more pressing issue is, what to do with him?" Crossing his arms, Silver Falcon turned a disapproving gaze on Saxon. "He's right, you know. There are no laws that I know of for dealing with malicious use of mind control. There's just no precedent. Blow up a building, rob a bank, attempted murder - those are crimes we know how to deal with. How can we even prove what he's done?"

Sighing, Crimson Angel rubbed a hand through her hair. "What's even worse is that I still want to help him. His influence is still there, and I'm only doing this because I know rationally that he's controlling me and has to be stopped."

"Well, I'd say, take him to the police and explain it all," Donna suggested. "Then it'll be up to the lawmakers to come up with what's needed to deal with him and any others with powers we've just never faced before."

"It's the only thing we can do," Falcon agreed.

"Oh," Angel groaned. "And here comes the press." The other two turned to see the television reporter and his cameraman approaching. "This is always the worst part of this job."

"Yeah." Falcon shook his head. "Almost enough to put me off this line of work."

"Let me take care of it." Donna patted both of them on the arm and jerked her head toward Saxon. "You need to look after him, so get going. And make sure he doesn't get to talk."

"Oh, you've always been an angel, Donna," Silver Falcon crooned, scooping her toward him and pecking her on the top of the head, then letting her go as he turned to the other prime. "Different kind of angel from you," he explained.

"Shut it, Tiny Wings," Crimson Angel snapped. "Don't think I haven't regretted this name since the day I chose it. The blokes think it means that I'm innocent or sexy, and the women complain that my energy isn't actually crimson and doesn't match my costume. I just can't win." She grinned at Donna and beckoned Falcon to accompany her to deal with Saxon.

"You could just go with your first name." Falcon's tone was mockingly helpful. "No pre-conceived expectations. Then you can change your costume as much as you want, like Kathica."

"Take it from me: no one wants to be rescued by a hero named Margaret."

That was the last Donna heard of their banter as she stepped in front of the approaching news crew. "I'm sorry," she began, holding her hands out to her sides to let them know they weren't to pass her, "Silver Falcon and Crimson Angel are busy at the moment. They aren't available to talk."

"We'd just like a statement on what happened today. It shouldn't take a moment." He glanced over Donna's head at the retreating primes.

"Well," said Donna as she stood her ground, "you'll just have to talk to me, then."

The reporter's eyes flicked over her as he realised who she was. "You were right down in the thick of all of that. You saw everything that happened and you know who that new prime is, don't you?"

"I do."

"Then can we do an interview?" The reporter jerked his head at his cameraman to get into position.

Donna smiled sweetly. She had full control over what got out about all of this. "I can tell you everything that went on here, but on one condition: you don't mention the prime's real name and you don't show him unmasked in any way. He deserves respect and privacy, and I'm sure there's already going to be too much of him on the Internet, but I want to stop it here as much as I can. If you've any footage of him without the mask, you destroy it, even if it's only from the back."

Considering the demand for a moment, the reporter turned to his cameraman. "Did you get any?"

He nodded. "Only at the end. I got back with the camera as he left."

The reporter eyed Donna as he ordered, "Erase it."

The cameraman fiddled with his equipment for a few minutes whilst his partner and Donna waited, then nodded. "It's gone and I'm ready."

"Okay. No mention of his real identity in any way. That's the deal," the reporter repeated to assure Donna that her concerns were being honoured in exchange for the scoop. "Now, before we film, tell me what happened, and then we'll do the televised interview afterward."

Nodding, Donna began. "All right. The new prime, he's called the Doctor..."

Donna settled in to tell the tale of the Doctor and Harold Saxon whilst the primes carted the man away and the square slowly emptied. Hitting the most important events - the discovery of Saxon's powers and what he intended to do with it, and the attempt to destroy the machine with which he'd hoped to capture large audiences - she managed to keep her own involvement out of it for the most part, saying that she'd previously known the Doctor and had come to the square to see if she could assist. After hearing the entire story, the reporter's interview was even more abridged, focusing on Saxon and the danger his type of power represented.

That night, the incident was splashed across the evening news, with Donna's statements to the press front and center and only one blurry image of the Doctor, still in his mask, facing down Harold Saxon, and Sylvia took special pride in her daughter's role in revealing Saxon's threat. Donna found herself smothered in frequent motherly hugs and offerings of tea and cake, and she found it to be almost as oppressive as the nagging and sarcasm she usually received. It all got worse once the phone calls started coming in.

"And that was Darla," Sylvia announced, clapping her phone closed as she sat back down on the sofa. "They're talking about you all the way up in York! She wanted to know if you managed to get Silver Falcon's autograph. Leave it to her think of something like that at a time like this."

Donna was curled up in the corner of the couch, trying not to watch herself on the telly. She wanted to lock herself in her room and try to sort out this very confusing day, but she knew that it was pointless to try. Her mother needed to bask in her reflected spotlight. "Silver Falcon's just a regular bloke," she grumped.

"Well, that's a change in attitude," Sylvia retorted. "No longer the be-all, end-all, is he, now that you know was working for this Saxon person?"

Donna rolled her eyes. "I told you, Mum. He was coerced. He's normally a good man."

"But you see, that just goes to show you what I've been saying." She shook a finger at Donna. "You can't trust these primes. It goes to their heads, it does, and then they think they don't have to be accountable. They don't worry about who they're hurting."

"That's not true," Donna replied immediately, but without her usual fervor. Somehow, she wasn't quite sure about who she could trust anymore. "It's just not true."

"Oh, and this Doctor of yours," Sylvia continued as she picked up her tea cup. "How did you get involved with him anyway?"

Donna shot her grandfather a silencing glare before answering. "I'm not 'involved' with him, Mother. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, when he was moving in to confront Saxon."

"And he just put you right in the middle of all that fighting," she stated, glaring at Donna over the rim of cup.

Donna groaned. "Mum, that's enough. What happened to all the 'now that's my Donna on the telly' and 'I always knew you'd do great things'?"

Sylvia sniffed, pursing her lips superciliously. "I'm just saying that it was dangerous."

"And I'm just saying that sometimes it's worth the risk to do what's right."

"Well, missy!" Sylvia exclaimed as she stood up and planted her hands on her hips. "I suppose a mother's not supposed to worry about her daughter. I know when I'm not wanted." And she marched away, up the stairs.

"I can't win! I just can't win ever!" Donna breathed, flopping back on the couch. "I can save the city from a mind control nutter, and all she says is, could I have done it safer?"

"Sweetheart," Wilf soothed. "You know she's proud of you. She's just worried, is all."

"I know. It's just…" She sighed, sinking further into the cushions. "I was queen of the world for a moment there. I just wished it lasted a few minutes longer."

With a sympathetic smile, Wilf stood up and moved over to sit next to Donna on the couch, patting her on the thigh. "So, that was your Doctor, wasn't it?"

"He's not my Doctor. He's not my anything." She stared at the scenes of the square on the telly without seeing any of it.

Wilf frowned and pointed at the telly. "But you was with him there, right there in the middle of all them primes, weren't you?"

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

Sitting up, she caught his gaze for a moment before pronouncing, "I know who he is, Gramps. His mask came off and I got to see him. I know him."

Leaning back, Wilf put a hand to his mouth. "You know him. He's a friend."

"Yeah. And he ran off, soon as he could." Donna paused, blinking back unbidden tears. "I don't get it, Gramps. He knows me, from two different lives, and all I've done in both of them is try to help him. Why couldn't he trust me?"

"Oh, sweetheart." Wilf caught her hand and held it in both of his as he asked, "Is he a good man? Both of him, I mean. The man and the prime?"

"I think so. I mean, how can I tell? I thought Lance was a good man, and lookit the wanker he turned out to be." She plopped back against the sofa again, hugging herself and staring off into the corner.

"You can tell, in your heart."

Donna considered everything she knew about Jon, but she realised it really wasn't much. Yes, she'd worked in the same department with him for two years, but their paths had rarely crossed. She'd only started getting to know him in the last month or so, and all she'd learned was that he was a brilliant engineer with career problems who was shy but kind. At the same time, she'd met him as the Doctor, and as a prime, he was brave and compassionate. Was that enough to tell her who he really was? She couldn't ignore the fact that she'd dated Lance for two years and hadn't known him at all. "I don't know, Gramps. I think he tries to be, but I really don't know."

Wilf nodded, understanding her difficulty. "Well, then, think about it like this, sweetheart. He's got two lives. He trusted _you_ with both of them. No one else."

"No, he didn't," said Donna, shaking her head. "I only found out when they unmasked him."

"I'm not talking about that." Jittering his hand, Wilf struggled to put his thoughts into words. "Look, look. You told him to be a hero and he did, and then, then he came back as that hero to find you. If he didn't trust you, he wouldn't have done that, and you never would have known. He sought you out as the Doctor because he already knew you in his real life."

Donna shrugged. Perhaps that made sense, but it was the only thing that did. "But if he trusted me, then why wouldn't he tell me? And after I already knew, why did he run off?"

"I think, darling, it's that he doesn't trust himself."

Donna laughed. "What? That's daft."

"No, it's not." Wilf grasped her hand again, warm and comforting. "Maybe he's afraid he'll put you in more danger. Or maybe he doesn't think he's good enough for you. Wouldn't be the first time a bloke thought that. But you hafta ask _him_. He's the only one who can tell you for sure."

Pulling her hand away, Donna threw both of them up in frustration. "I told you, he ran off. He doesn't want to talk to me."

"Never stopped you before."

Donna grinned. Gramps knew her the best of everyone in the world. "No, it hasn't, has it?"

He took her hand again and peered at her with wide eyes, nodding. "Go after him, sweetheart. You won't have peace if you don't."

Cocking her head to the side, Donna gazed at her grandfather, her lips pursed in a tiny, sad smile. "Yeah."


	17. Chapter 17

Donna spent the rest of the evening on the brink of hopping the Tube to work to search Jon's personal file to get his address and phone number, but finally convinced herself that she could wait another twelve hours to talk to him. _Well, fourteen hours_ , she told herself, because she knew she'd be mobbed the moment she walked through the doors of the company, and she was right. There was a crowd of people from all departments hanging about the receptionist's desk, and they pounced on her as soon as she appeared, eager to get the Saxon story right from the source. She didn't try to put them off, knowing full well there was no way to extricate herself from all of them. It took her nearly thirty minutes to make it all the way to her desk, and that turned into a revolving door of admirers, all wanting to hear about the corrupt politician and the new prime.

She was starting to despair of losing her voice when Veena came bustling through, shooing everyone away. "All right, everyone, bugger off. Donna and I have work to do. You can gawk later," she screeched as she dropped a hot cup of tea in front of her friend. "That's it. Get out." As the last person stepped into the hallway, she trotted over to shut the door, then locked it.

Donna took a long gulp of tea, then rolled her eyes at Veena. "You just want to hear it all by yourself, don't you?"

"Nope." Striding over to her own desk, she pulled a paper from her top drawer, then hopped over and waved it at Donna. "I wanted to show you this."

Donna snatched it with a sceptical smirk, then frowned as she looked it over. "This is a notice." She stared at Veena, her jaw hanging. "Jon's quitting?"

'Yeah. He's staying until he finishes Tom's project, which he thinks will take him three days, and then he's gone." She sat on the edge of Donna's desk. "He gave that to me first thing when I got in. I thought you'd want to see it."

"Yeah," she murmured, reading the paper over again. "Yeah, I did. Does Nerys know?"

"Nah. I'm not half busy, you know," she explained airily. "Running errands all over the building. Prettying up that white paper for Anna. Making the tea. Trimming my nails. Haven't quite gotten to it yet." She winked, and Donna answered that with a mischievous grin.

"Yeah, you've been swamped this morning." Raising a finger in the air, she brightened like a fantastic idea had suddenly occurred to her. "Why don't you let me take it up to Nerys?"

Veena sighed with exaggerated relief, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead with a theatrical flare. "You're a godsend, Donna, you are."

"I suppose, if he's working on Tom's project, he'll be down in the labs." She tapped the side of her nose with her finger.

"Could be."

"Then I'll definitely avoid there," Donna stated as she opened the door and stepped into the corridor. "I'm certainly not going down to the labs."

"Yeah, when you're upstairs, say hi to Paul for me," Veena called after her.

As Donna took the stairs down to avoid any adoring fans at the lift, she wound the paper in her nervous hands into as tight a tube as she could manage. The corridor outside the labs was mercifully empty, and, as she had done once before a few weeks earlier, she found Jon's lab, knocked softly, checked the equipment light, then slipped inside.

The currently in-progress part of Tom's old project was an array of specialised pumps and tubes intended for installation into a larger system at the work site. The parts were hung from a frame descended from the ceiling and hooked up to machines designed to test the fluid flow and output pressure. To Donna, it simply looked like a chaotic mess of plastic pipes and stainless steel cylinders that quivered as liquid was forced through it. The engineer was studying the graphs and numbers on a trio of computer monitors with his back to the door.

"Hello, Donna," he intoned without turning around. "Just a tick."

"Yeah."

Jon continued to watch the data on the screen for a couple of minutes, then, nodding to himself, dashed over to the pump controls and shut them all down. He returned to the computer to type for a bit, then turned around to greet his guest properly. "Thanks. Just needed to let that test finish," he explained as she approached.

"You always know, don't you?" When his left eyebrow shot up in inquiry, she clarified, "Who comes in. You always know when it's me."

Hugging himself, he toyed with the shoulder seam of his shirt as he glanced away. "Yes. I can hear your shape, and the timbre of your breath and your heart, they're as singular as fingerprints."

Donna couldn't help smiling at the intelligence and prime power hidden away in such an unassuming package. "You are amazing, Jon. So incredible and brilliant."

His eyes squeezed shut. "Stop it!" he hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm not. I'm not any of that."

"Yes, you are. I'm telling you the truth. You're wond-"

"I know," he cut her off. "I can hear that, too, you know. You really do believe that, I've no doubt in my mind. But you're wrong." He glanced at the rolled-up paper in her hand. "Veena should have given that to Nerys. There's a reason I gave it to her and not you."

"Oh, so you can hear the ink on the paper now?"

"No. Just a very educated guess."

Donna walked over to the lab bench and placed the notice on a clear spot, smoothing it down with both hands. Then she tapped it and turned to the engineer. "Why are you leaving, Jon? Don't you like it here? I mean, yeah, you're starting from the bottom again, but the people here are great and your work's been fine."

His voice was very quiet. "Because it's time for me to move on. I can't stay here any longer."

"You're leaving because of me, aren't you?" With a heavy puff of breath, Jon turned slightly to look anywhere except at her. "Why, Jon? We've done so much together and you know that I understand. You know that I would never tell anyone your secrets. I'll never tell anyone who you are. After all we've been through, why can't you trust me?"

With dark, tired eyes under heavy lids, Jon peered at her. "Oh, Donna, you don't get it. You just don't get it. You're brilliant and brave and compassionate and oh so beautiful. I absolutely trust you. I trust you with my life and with my identity and with my heart. I'm not leaving because of you. I'm leaving because of me." Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and let his breath flow away before he continued. "I can't trust myself, Donna. I just know that one day, you're going to get hurt, and it's going to be my fault."

Donna drew herself up and stood as strong as she could. "You can't take responsibility for me like that. I chose to go to that rally, and if I had gotten hurt there, that would have been my fault, not yours."

"That's not it, Donna. I mean, that's part of it, yes. I couldn't do what I did without worrying for you, but… but…" Burying his face in his hands, he trembled, his laboured breath audible. Setting his jaw, he swallowed and faced her. "Donna. I'm dangerous. I pretend I'm not, but it's the truth."

Donna laughed. "Jon, stop exaggerating to make a point. You're not -"

"I'm not exaggerating!" he thundered, and she took a startled step back. Plunging his hand in his pocket, he pulled out his little silver thumb drive and tossed it to her. She could hear the pieces inside rattling as it tumbled in the air and landed in her hand. "Remember when I told you about the presentation? I told you I was so nervous that I was buzzing. That wasn't a figure of speech. I was _actually buzzing_ , and I shattered the thumb drive. I carry that with me because it reminds me every moment just what happens when I lose control. And you know that smashed basin in the executive toilet upstairs? That was me. HR called me in to tell me that Nerys filed a report against me and that I was being evaluated, and afterwards, I went in there to calm down and touched the basin and It. Fell. Apart."

He spun around the lab, arms out to indicate the chamber and his work. "All of this, every single failure I've had here is due to my so-called 'gifts'." He spat the word at her. "Well, I should say, all except this last one, which was Dave's error in machining, but only because I refused to step foot in this lab until the prototype was done. But in all the other projects… I've warped metal. I've fractured plastic and glass. I've destroyed equipment. Lucky for me, it all looks like incompetence and not willful violence.

"You see, Donna, I can't stop it." Flexing his fingers in front of his face, he stared at them in despair. "I am always emitting a sonic field; it just varies in frequency and intensity." Whirling suddenly, he walked over to the computer and picked up the mouse. "Usually it's just a whisper of infrasound, but if I forget, if I get distracted, or if I get angry or upset, then well, you see…" He held up the mouse so she could see it and with a sudden _crack_ , it crumbled in his hand, the fragments of the plastic casing, laser, and circuit board pouring like gravel through his fingers, leaving the end of the cord trailing from his hand down to the computer.

"Jon…" she murmured, but he continued, talking over her.

"That chicken bone I told you about? That was accidental, not an intentional experiment like I told you, but it taught me so much. And it gets worse. The right frequency and strength of ultrasound, it can liquefy flesh. What if I have a nightmare, Donna? Can you imagine what that would do to the person sleeping next to me? It's horrible, and I can't… I can't…" Drawing his hand down over his jaw, he shook his head, his eyes wide and desperate. "I can't let that person be you."

Astonished, Donna gasped, her eyes widening. "You… You're worried about what you might do to me, because -"

"Yes, because I love you!" groaned Jon like it was the first basic fact that every idiot knows. "I've always loved you, from the moment I met you. How could I not? You're the most fiery, beautiful, brilliant woman in the entire world!"

Donna was still stuck on the first statement. "It's been two whole years… Why didn't you say something?"

He gaped at her. "I couldn't do that! I can't let anyone near me, for their own safety. And besides, you were with Lance. " Striding away, he cowered behind the array of metal and pipes, pulling at his hair with his hands. Donna could see his shoulders heaving as he trembled. Hand outstretched to comfort him, she took a few steps forward, but he whirled around and backed against the computer console, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to compose himself. "Don't. Don't come near me. Really, I could hurt you with a touch."

Donna was not afraid, and in fact, if anything, his protests made her want to help him even more. "Jon. Please don't leave. I don't want you to go. I know you're worried about all of this, but that's what we do, don't we? We work it through. You and I together, we can handle anything. Look at what we did yesterday, together. We'll figure it out, what we can do -"

"Don't… don't…" he choked out. "Stop, Donna. Just stop."

"What now?"

Collecting his courage, Jon drew himself up and shook his head, his lips curved in a sad, frosty smile. "I don't want your sympathy or your solutions, Donna. I'm not that far gone that I can't see that it just won't work."

She stared at him. "What does that mean?"

"I'm not blind, Donna," he murmured, his voice soft and gentle. "You've never been interested in me. You barely know me. You just think I'm the Doctor, the hero springing about the city rescuing damsels from attackers in dark alleys. He doesn't exist, not anymore. I can't be him. I could only be him because of the mask, because no one was looking, no one could see…" He threw his hands up, resigning himself to the reality of his life. "I'm just me, shut up in my lab, talking to spanners and pumps and lathes and trying not to destroy everything around me. I'm no one."

"You're no one? That's bloody nonsense!" Donna protested at once. She strode up to him and placed both hands on his chest, though he flinched from the contact. "Not even counting what you did yesterday, you're a genius engineer and you've made my Gramps so happy, and you care so much that -"

He interrupted her with a sharp "Shush!" Taking a deep breath, he apologised for being so rude. "But please stop. You don't owe me anything. You've been a delight to work with here, and I don't know what I would have done, doing… being… you know, if I had to do all that without you. I hadn't even thought to try until you opened my eyes. But this is where it has to end. I'm not the Doctor. I can't be him. Not like this. I'm not who you want."

Frowning, Donna stepped back. "Oh, Jon, Jon. I -"

He silenced her with a finger to her lips. Then he smiled, his eyes shining with tender affection. "Donna, please. Please just go. All I want is for you to be happy. You'll find him out there somewhere, that hero that you deserve."

"Jon." She stepped back once more, then set her fists on her hips. "You great blimmin' dunce!"

"What?" Completely taken aback by her sudden remonstrance, Jon stared at her, his lips curved in a perfect 'O'.

Pursing her lips, she glowered at him. "For a bleedin' wallflower, you've really got a gob. Takes a huge one to talk over me."

"Donna -"

"Shhhp!" she hissed, snapping a finger up in front of his face to shut him up. "I'm talking now, so you keep it zipped, Slim!" She glared at him for a moment to make sure he wasn't going to try to interrupt her again. "Now you listen here. You're going to give over saying this tosh about not being good enough. This," and she squiggled her finger down his form, "this timid geek-boy thing. This isn't you, innit, any more than you're the Doctor? You're just like this so people don't get close. You're neither Jon nor the Doctor. If I haven't seen who you are, it's because you haven't let me.

"But!" And she held up her finger again as he sucked in his breath to reply. "But I think I have. Of all the people in the world, I'm the one that's seen both of you and I see the real you, the man behind all of your masks. You're a brilliant engineer and a courageous hero, and yes, you're shy and insecure, but you're also compassionate and caring. You're Doctor Jonathan Smith, and that's who I love."

Donna knew it wasn't going to be that easy and was not surprised to see Jon lean back to cower against the computer console, the doubt - the self-doubt - clouding his eyes. But though she had never thought of Jon in that way before, though her loyalty had always been to the Doctor, she knew she loved him with all her heart. After all, she had incontrovertible proof.

"Jon," she sighed. "You're such a rational, logical bloke, and you have to know the reasons for everything. Do you know why I was able to throw off Harold Saxon's hold on me?"

Frowning at her, he thought for a few moments, then finally admitted, "No."

"Well, normally you're a clever boy and can figure it out on your own, but I'll give you a pass considering your head's all muddled up right now. You told me, when we were watching the rally, that he doesn't control people. He convinces people. What he does is he just nudges you over into believing something you were on the edge of believing already, but he can't change your mind on something you already believe. Don't you see? He couldn't make me question your character and he certainly couldn't make me hate you, because I already believed in you and I already loved you. And I still do."

Staring down at the tips of his shoes, Jon shook his head. "You love the Doctor. Not me," he insisted.

"No, Jon, you're wrong. At that moment, you weren't the Doctor. You were Jon, standing right there before me with your mask in your hands. Yes, you, the Doctor, same man? Didn't see that coming. And yes, I coulda slapped you for not telling me, for letting it all come to that, but I never lost my faith in you. I knew at that moment who I really loved. I just couldn't tell you because Harold Saxon was breathing down my neck, and that was a tiny bit more important at the time, don't you think?" It was her turn to look away guiltily. "It tore my heart to hurt you, but it was the only way I could take him by surprise."

A spark of hope flared to life in Jon's eyes, and he reached a hand out to her before snatching it back like he'd tried to grasp fire. "Donna, I can't. I couldn't bear to hurt you, and it's only a matter of time -"

"Jon! Jon!" she called, pressing both hands on his chest to calm him down. "We can do this. Together, we can do anything." She popped up on her tiptoes and reached up to curve her hand around the back of his neck. As she threaded her fingers through his soft hair and coaxed him down to her, he drew in a sharp breath to warn her off. "Shush," she murmured as their lips met. He stiffened and tried to pull back, but she wrapped her other arm around his waist and held him fast.

"Mmpf!" he squeaked in a final shocked protest, then melted. Cupping her cheek with one hand, he drank in the warmth of her soft lips for a brief moment before stepping back, pushing her gently away with trembling fingers and gazing at her with a tentative smile, as if he couldn't believe that he'd dared to kiss her and that she'd survived the experience.

"I'm still here, Ears," she teased. "None the worse for wear and hoping there's more where that came from."

"No, I can't," he breathed then held up both forefingers to stop and explain. "I mean, I need to take this slowly. I still need to learn what I'm capable of."

"I understand," she assured him, catching his hand and squeezing. "After all of this, I really do. We go at your pace, but together."

"Huh. 'Together'. Not a word I've heard in a long time." His eyes glistening, Jon bit back a hopeful smile.

"You'll hear it every day now, I promise. But!" and Donna held up a finger. "That reminds me." She hopped over and snatched the resignation from the lab bench. "You won't be needing this, I think?" she asked, waving it him.

"No, I won't. I'm staying right here." Jon watched as Donna tore up the paper into tiny pieces and dumped them in the bin, letting them rain like confetti from her fingers.

"There. That's done," she stated as she dusted off her hands with the satisfaction of a job well done. "See you at lunch?"

"Oh yes," he breathed, "please."

"All the primes in the world couldn't keep me away." With a lilt in her step, Donna skipped to the door and, slipping through, spun to throw him one last fond smile before she left him to his work.


	18. Chapter 18

_Four months later…_

"What do you think? Does it look all right?" Jon asked as he balanced the last biscuit atop the carefully arranged pyramid in the center of the platter.

"Perfect!" Donna beamed as she swept by with a handful of silverware and plucked the biscuit from right in front of him and popped it in her mouth. "Looks great and tasty, too," she announced through a mouthful of crumbs.

"Oi! That was the capstone!" He grabbed the packet from the counter to check it for an extra biscuit.

Donna laughed, rolling her eyes. "Engineers!" She began setting out the place settings on the dining table. "There's too much food, you know. It's just Mum and Gramps, and Mum won't let him touch most of this."

Spinning to lean back against the counter, Jon fiddled with the crinkly plastic. "I just want them to know I can take care of you."

Exasperated, she shook her head. "I am not a puppy they're giving away, Jon."

With a sheepish grin, he shrugged and binned the packet. "Yeah, but your mum's not going to be happy with you moving into a place like this."

Donna glanced around his flat, one of a number built in a converted warehouse. The tall windows and soaring ceiling made the atmosphere airy and bright, but the outer walls were naked brickwork, the original pipes still running up from the floor through the ceiling at irregular intervals, giving it a dirty industrial feel. Jon was right: Sylvia would turn her nose up at it. To be honest, he'd done a good job of furnishing the place more stylishly than Donna would have expected from him, but it wasn't going to be enough to sway her mother's opinion. It didn't help that the area under the metal staircase leading up to his bedroom was currently stacked with boxes and objects he was moving out of his former study to provide a room for her.

"Mum's not going to be happy no matter where we we live. We could live in Buckingham Palace and she'd complain that the drawing rooms are too small," she drawled, affecting an aristocratic accent for the last phrase of her declaration and fanning herself with her hand. "But you don't need to get her to agree. It's my decision to move in with you."

As Jon took the platter of biscuits and set it on the coffee table near their mugs of tea, Donna strode to the window and lifted his violin from the rack on the wall next to the music stand. "This." Holding it gingerly by its polished body, she looked it over. "This'll get her. Mum'll always fall for the posh pretentious music snob."

"Oh!" In a moment, Jon was by her side, taking the instrument from her to quickly tune it, snatching the bow from the rack. "What should I play for her then? Something Russian, you think? I've got Tchaikovsky's _Violin Concerto_." Dropping the instrument back in its home, he was halfway up the wall and about to leap from a pipe to the top of the stair before Donna could call him back.

"Jon! Come back here! I was joking." Reversing on a dime, he somersaulted and landed next to her, and she reached out to squeeze his arm. "I mean, yeah, Mum'll love that, but… Come on, you know she likes you. Always has, and she loves that you've been coming over to see Gramps as much as for me."

Scratching at the back of his neck, Jon glanced over at the door. "Well, that's going to end right quick tonight."

"You don't have to tell her."

He didn't move, but his wide brown eyes twitched to look at her, dark and serious. "No, I do. It's time."

Donna tugged gently on his arm. "Come on. Everything's ready. Come relax." Leading him to the sofa, she sat down and pulled him down next to her, then picked up her tea.

"Let me warm that up for you?" Jon reached a tentative hand towards the cup, his long fingers twitching nervously, making Donna bite back a giggle. He was still sweet, shy Jon.

"That'd be lovely."

Taking the mug from her, he stared absently at it as he held it in both hands. "I think this is the right time to come clean with them. They've had time to get to know me. Now they need to meet the other me. They need to know what I do, and they need to understand the dangers."

Donna sighed. "In a way, I'd rather you didn't. You'll confirm everything Mum's ever said about primes. She still doesn't trust you all."

"She's right, you know." When Donna frowned at him, surprised at his statement, he peered up at her and nodded. "Everything she said about us at your party, she was right. We need to be controlled."

"You heard that?" She immediately snorted at herself. "Oh, I'm daft. Of course you did. You really think you should give up your freedom?"

"It's not freedom, Donna." He very deliberately pronounced, "Licence," his tongue flicking visibly. "We're given licence to do whatever we want because it hasn't really dawned on anyone that we don't know what we're doing. We're as dangerous as a gun or a car in the hands of someone who doesn't know how to use one." He shrugged. "But that doesn't matter. Your mum's going to hate me after tonight."

"I don't think so. It's not the same, you know." She shook her head at the question in his eyes. "All this Downer stuff. It's easy to say 'get out of England' when you're talking about them over there. But when it's a real person, when it's a friend, it's different."

"Maybe, but I think you're overestimating your mother's regard for me."

"You're the first boyfriend of mine she's liked in a long time," she pointed out. "Maybe ever."

Jon stared at her, his head cocked in disbelief. "Not Lance? He was quite a catch, head of HR with a prime flat right in the city. Better than a loner engineer living in a warehouse in Acton any day."

"Nah! He was _too_ posh," she crowed as she rolled her eyes. Puffing herself up, she imitated Sylvia's nasal whine. "'Man like that, he doesn't need you. He's only keeping you around for practice.' Turns out she was right," she admitted in her own voice, shrugging.

"Donna, you know that's not true," he chided her with a gentle, low voice.

"Yeah, I know. But," and she patted him on the arm, "Mum likes you and you'll be fine. And anyway, she can't stop me from being with you."

"No, she can't." He sniffed. "But I want us to have her approval."

"Yeah," she agreed with a dreamy sigh. "That'd be nice. But it'll be okay. You'll see."

"Here." He handed her back her tea. "Be careful. I think it's a bit too hot."

As Jon picked up his own cup and cradled it in his hands, Donna took a careful sip. "No, it's perfect. Thanks." Taking a longer drink, she placed the mug back on the table and leant on Jon's shoulder, then frowned. "You're buzzing."

"Yup."

She drew back to look him over. He was tense, but not jittery. "You been letting off steam?"

"Yeah. For about an hour before you got here." He shrugged. "Had to. Let it go on and I'm like a five-year-old after two cans of pop. I'd be going out of my mind right about now."

"Climbing the walls?" she asked with a playful jab in his ribs.

"Literally," he replied, nudging her back.

"You know," she began, patting his denim-clad leg, "you'd get a lot more freedom of movement with more flexible clothing. You should keep that in mind as you design your costume."

"I am not going to wear a 'costume'," he spat at her, crossing his arms in indignation, "and I'm certainly not going to wear spandex!"

"You'd look gorgeous in it." Leaning away, she looked him over from head to foot. "Let's say, a nice deep blue like your mask. Maybe some silver trim here and here to bring out your shoulders."

As the colour began to rise on his cheeks, Jon curled in on himself, the arms across his chest becoming a shield against her scrutiny. "I'd look like someone wrapped a broomstick in a party balloon," he mumbled.

"You've got to have an image," Donna urged, "so the bad guys quake in their boots when they see you coming."

"You know that's not how I work," he grumped.

"There's gotta be something unique about it, make you stand out. How about a bright red fez?" she suggested, managing to keep a tolerably innocent expression.

He glared at her. "I would never, ever, in a dozen lifetimes, wear a fez."

"Maybe," and a sly grin curved her lips, "but I did take your mind off my mum for a moment. You know, she isn't that bad, really."

He drew back, looking her over with one eyebrow arched high. "You _are_ Donna Noble, daughter of Sylvia Noble, aren't you? I mean, you must be, because you're beautiful as ever, but you've obviously gone spare."

"Put a sock in it, flea boy." She punched him on the arm. "Really, Mum won't be that bad. She'll understand eventually. Besides, you did just fine when you told Nerys, and she can be a right nightmare."

Jon wagged a finger at her. "The woman who holds the noose around my job and career is nowhere near as scary as your mother. And I knew that she'd be reasonable, once she knew the reason behind all my failures and we could work on stopping them."

"Did you ask if you can use your powers for your work?"

"No. Thought about it, but I figured if I did, I'd have to come out to the whole company. Not ready for that. Don't think I ever will be." He glanced up with a slight frown. "Someone's at the main door. Two people. That's them." He gulped down his tea as he popped up and grabbed Donna's cup to take them into the kitchen. "Glah! That was still cold. And, oh, my hair! Forgot my hair!" Dumping the tea things in the sink, he crossed the room in two leaps using the kitchen island as a springboard as Donna called after him that his hair was fine.

"Calm down, Ears!" she groaned as he disappeared into the toilet and the intercom buzzed at the same time. Shaking her head, she got up and crossed to the speaker by the door, punching the "Talk" button as she spoke into it. "Hoy, Mum. When the door buzzes, you can pull it open."

"Right-o!" came Wilf's squawky reply.

As Donna released the door, Jon appeared next to her, his eyes wide and panicked. He smoothed down his shirt and stood wringing his hands. Donna stretched up to peck him on the cheek. "You'll be fine, love. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." He smiled down at her. "I love you, Donna."

"Go get'em, Doctor." Snaking an arm around his waist, she hugged him to her side, then pulled the door open to welcome their guests.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Thank you very much for reading!


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